


Precision Tactics (for the Hopeful Shinobi)

by Reveri



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, BAMF Nohara Rin, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Growth, Eventual Relationships, Evil Shimura Danzou, F/M, Family Dynamics, Fix-it but with consequences, Fluff, Hatake Sakumo Is A Jounin Sensei, Hatake Sakumo Lives, Humor, Konoha Worldbuilding, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Namikaze Minato Lives, No Uchiha Massacre, Nohara Rin Lives, Pakkun as a puppy need I say more?, Polyamorous Character, Pre-Naruto Canon Era, Protective Kakashi, Reincarnation and Transmigration, Shinobi Politics (Naruto), Summons & Summoning Meta, Teamwork, Third Person POV, Uchiha Shisui Lives, Various Generations of Team Seven, Wherein Konoha's Flee-On-Sight Jounin Become One Team Eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25749823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reveri/pseuds/Reveri
Summary: {Reincarnated OC} It took Namikaze Rika one flick of the wrist to topple Konoha's clan politics from the ground up. If she wanted to save her brother from an untimely demise, and the pesky Uchiha brats from a total clan wipeout, she just absolutely could not miss.(A non-massacre fix-it fic wherein nobody we care about dies. And puppies. You're welcome.)
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/OC/Uchiha Shisui/Uchiha Itachi, Hatake Kakashi/Original Female Character(s), Namikaze Minato/Uzumaki Kushina, Uchiha Itachi & Original Female Character(s), Uchiha Shisui/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 164
Kudos: 762
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Not to be misplaced, fics that were so good i didn't finish my homework, oc self insertSI





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dead of night, an explosion occurs too close to home, and Namikaze Minato is first to arrive at the scene. Meet Namikaze Rika, the Yellow Flash’s little sister, and Konoha’s best bukijutsu-nin… well, at least, not for another twenty years.

**Precision Tactics (for the Hopeful Shinobi)** **by Reveri**

**Prologue**

The Namikazes weren't rich.

As a matter of fact, they weren't a clan at all, and Minato was the first in his family to walk the path of a shinobi. Being an only child then, his mother had been horrified. And to an extent, he understood. She was a civilian housewife, and the stories of children dying in the lines of war was a fate she did not wish for her son. His father, on the other hand, welcomed his decision with firm support. The head of the family had dreamt to be a shinobi once, just like him at that age, but like most civilian academicians, the lack of chakra affinity and jutsu proficiency cemented his father's career to preserving historical texts and scholarly scripture in schools and libraries instead.

Without a hitch, Minato was able to enter the academy, and in time he learned how to navigate his new life. He could never show his mother any of his blades, bruises, or books, as she would definitely burst into tears shortly after, but his new learnings were quite welcome in his father's study. They would spend after school hours slaved over a common interest for fuuinjutsu texts, and Minato's prodigious aptitude for multiple jutsus made his father infinitely proud. Strength and prowess came easily to Minato, and rigorous training sharpened his senses beyond natural ability.

But his duties piled up, and between studying, training, and missions, Minato began to grow distantly from home. His parents would assure him that the village needed him more than ever, and that all he had to do was remember to drop by whenever he had the time. They would be there when he needed them.

A couple of years later, his father had written for him, and Minato found himself at home the first second he was free. The moment he stepped into the house—he knew.

"You're going to be a big brother," his mother had announced shyly, palm curving at her burgeoning belly.

There were four heartbeats in the room, and he didn't need enhanced eyesight to notice the change in his mother's figure.

"Now you better do your best to protect the village!" His father had clapped him on the back, startling him out of his reverie. "The safety of your sister depends on you!"

So he works harder. Trains harder. Studies harder. Teachers and friends congratulate him for the records he'd earned along the way, but all those were inconsequential to what he endeavored to achieve. It wasn't just him now. Not just his parents, not just the village. There was new life coming, and this was the one he needed to protect.

Namikaze Rika was an angel. She was born with deep, golden hair and blue eyes, just like his and his father's, but her locks lengthened smoothly into waves as she grew.

She came into the world with a price.

It had been a difficult pregnancy for his mother, and no one was ready for her passing six months after Rika's birth. But the youngest Namikaze quickly became the world to him, and every time he came home, sparkling eyes looked up to him and called for him endearingly. Grubby hands reached for him and insisted him to stay this time, and the next time, and the time after that. She meant so much to him, more than his own life, and she was living evidence of what he wasn't willing to lose to the world.

Months into his mother's death, Minato noticed his father spiral into silent depression and detachment. When his father threw himself into his books and archives and familial neglect, Minato decided to leave his apartment temporarily and move back home to raise Rika. Not before too long, the babbling, angel-eyed mess that was his sister livened the somber air inside their home.

"When will you be back?" She would sob every time he went away. "Why do you go?"

And again and again, he would explain, "Because I have to protect you, Rika."

She grew up waiting for him to come home. From crawling, to waddling, and once, when he'd come home after a ten-week long dispatch to the Land of Tea, she had surprised him by walking up to him to the front door.

"Nii-chama's home!" Her little voice would announce with perpetual glee every time. "Rika-rin loves nii-chama!"

"Tadaima," he would reply, fondly mussing her hair. "I'm home."

* * *

Minato had just completed yet another mission, and he dutifully delivered the accomplished mission scroll back to the kage tower. On his way out, an explosion sounded in the dead of the night. Right from where his family house's district was supposed to be.

With frantic speed, he was the first responder to make it into the familiar neighborhood, thick, heavy smoke wafting through the streets. Immediately after assessing his surroundings, he delved right into the origin of the blast… his own home.

The first thing he registered was the smell of burnt ink. And then the scattered bits that was his father's corpse on the walls… the windows… ashes and dust floating around in murky space.

Then the smoke thinned and revealed the small figure of his sister, laid in the exact middle of a summoning circle. Blonde hair sprawled in disarray, pale skin touching the wood grain of the floor.

His mouth dried at the sight, and the world crashed around him.

 _"_ _Nii-chama's home!"_

Painted onto the floor were seals—characters that his father had been the one to teach him once upon a time—dripping in void ink and malice.

 _"_ _Rika-rin loves nii-chama!"_

Life, strength, transfer, rebirth.

His legs, with stability that had been drilled into each muscle from years of grueling training, sauntered into the confines of the seal. He kneeled and pulled the body of his sister into his arms. Her head almost lolled back, and he quickly fixed his hold to check her vitals.

 _"_ _Tadaima."_

No breath.

 _"_ _I'm home."_

No life.

"No… no! No, no, no, no!" Was the screaming voice him? Was he the one sobbing? "Rika! _Rika!_ "

And then… a pulse.

In just a split second, he was on a mindless, acute state of mind, performing methodical chest compressions and breaths, frantically breathing life into the waning life force in his sister.

She started to cough, dry, like she was choking from the heavy particulates in the air, and eyelids fluttered.

* * *

" _When will you be back? Why do you go?"_

His father had tried to bring his mother back from the dead.

His sister was the sacrifice.

* * *

"Rika, look at me." He forces her gaze to him, his hold on her desperate. "Rika, stay with me. _Look at me._ "

Bright eyes find him, but they don't recognize him at all.

"Where… am I?"

His breath hitched. His sister's voice was barely a whisper.

"What... happened to me…" her cold fingers twitched weakly around his. "…who are you?"

And then she lost consciousness, eyes rolling back into her head.

* * *

The kid — that was Rika but was not Rika — confirms his worst fears when she regains consciousness.

He had lost Rika that night, and someone else had been pulled into the body of his sister.

But then the kid had looked at him, _looked_ _at him_ with his sister's eyes, glistening with tears, his sister's _voice_ , broken and wispy, his sister's _face_ , looking at him like he was still the world, like she had been waiting the entire time.

"Won't you protect me?"

* * *

_Life, strength, transfer, rebirth._

* * *

Many years later, when the Namikazes stroll through the district, people would whisper about the inherent disparity between the two siblings. Despite having similar physical attributes and having chosen identical professions in life, only one of the two garnered an infamous reputation. And to date, none of it had been completely unwarranted.

 _"_ _Ah, her? She doesn't look like it at all!"_

 _"_ _Right? But let me tell you, that girl's definitely troublesome..."_

Rika kicked her sandals into the dirt as she gnashed her teeth together, struggling to keep her temper in check. They were in the outer districts, and it definitely wouldn't do to tarnish her brother's pristine reputation and reinforce her lack thereof with a scene. And as much as she wanted to give the gossipmongers a piece of her mind, her brother had promised to cook katsu curry tonight, and she didn't want the ingredients they were buying to go to waste.

Minato's heavy hand landed on the top of her head, and he bent his head slightly to smile at her.

"Don't let them bother you." He said, and then after a few seconds of consideration, "Or, maybe let it get to your head a little bit…"

Rika crossed her arms petulantly and huffed, "I keep telling you, nii-san! You have your seals and your speed and all those flashy jutsus, while I—"

"—only have an interest for sharp things and explosives." Minato finished for her with a dry chuckle. He turned and walked back to the direction of their residence. "And I keep disagreeing, so here we are all over again. You can definitely do better than blowing up our house regularly, Rika-chan."

"Regu—?! It was only _twice_ , and the last time was six months ago!" Rika ran after him with a scowl. "You made me _promise_ to do my experiments at the training grounds since then. And you said you wouldn't bring it up anymore..." A stomp. "You know what, I'm gonna go back and tell them off!"

Minato's hand shot out to catch Rika by collar of her jacket before she could march back into the market district. With a stern look, the younger blonde relented, and she trudged alongside him again.

"How are you doing at the academy lately?" Minato had asked as they made it to their home street. "Any trouble I should know about?"

"There's a _lot_ of trouble," Rika confirmed gravely, eyes alight with a hint of humor. "Not with my studies though. But some of my classmates… and, oh! There's this boy in class…"

His eyes widened. A boy? In her class? Faces and memorized profiles flitted in his mind automatically. Which one?

He tried to keep his voice steady. "Oh?"

"Ha!" Minato watched his little sister run ahead of him and into their house. She pulled the door open and twisted around to reveal a mischievous grin, golden locks cascading around her form. "You'll have to put some curry into my system before I tell you anything!"

With a fond chuckle, he stepped in after her, and the both of them removed their sandals at the genkan.

At the same time, they murmured, "Tadaima."

Rika turned to her brother with a wide grin.

"Okaeri, nii-sama!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Right now, I’m thinking this will be Uchiha/OC/Hatake. Canon divergence, reincarnation fic, life of a shinobi and all that. If you aren’t comfortable with any of that, don’t read this. If you are, welcome to my latest obsession. That simple. Let me know what you think.


	2. Academy Arc - 1: New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rika assimilates into the world of shinobi during the time of war.

**Precision Tactics by Reveri**

**Chapter One**

Rika's house used to be small.

It was a one-bedroom apartment unit located in the outskirts of the city, packed with books and paperwork and misplaced teacups. In that life, she was older. People called her Inoue-sensei. No one had superpowers or naturally pink hair, talking dogs didn't exist, and the little orange book narrating an orphan's story to becoming hokage was exactly just that – a book. But in just a split moment, Inoue's eyes had glazed over and she was ripped away from the life she knew. When she came to consciousness, the world was much more different. She was Namikaze Rika.

It hadn't been easy to make sense of things at all. She was in a completely new universe, wearing a beige-pink hospital gown, body sore and mind feverish. And at first, she couldn't tell if she was dreaming or not, because the visions had been hazy and so, so surreal. One by one, they streamed into her mind like faded scenes – _yellow-haired people, laughing, smiling… figures jumping from rooftop to rooftop… soft humming and lullabies…_

At one point, the scenes started to pick up pace and sharpen – _walking, talking, running…_ _nii-sama!…_ And then, _dark houses… low whispers… waiting for sunlight…_ Suddenly—

_—a man drawing on the floor in the darkness. Repetitive, crazed pleas drowning hers as bright light started to glow from the ground. She was in the middle of an altar-like seal, her heart thudding against her chest painfully. A prickling feeling ghosted over her skin. When she lost her vision, a forceful sensation of burning and ripping coursed through her in a million sharp cuts. She screamed and choked on her breath as thickened smoke and dust filled her lungs—_

Rika woke up screaming.

Hands immediately found her. A familiar voice whispered in her ear and willed her to calm. She'd found his face, and then his eyes, and then she heard herself begging him. She clutched at his clothes desperately, fingers shaking. _Why did you go?_ She told him – sobbing – what had been done to her person. A look of devastation crossed the man's face and she scrambled for his comfort and protection. _Won't you protect me?_

So now, Rika's house is bigger. _Way_ bigger. Because it was an actual, traditional household in a good district – not just a single apartment unit in the outskirts of town. It had a full kitchen area with a dining table, two bedrooms, and a bath. A patio to lounge on, a garden to keep. No dark corners. No smoke. Just warm, homely space with bookcases filled to the brim, and the calming scent of herbal tea in the air.

 _Home._ It was the sanctuary she had shared with her brother since her reincarnation. For four years and counting, even if he was mostly missing in action these days.

"Stupid shinobi war," Rika grumbled as she dressed into her training attire. On her way out of the house, she slipped into her navy sandals and plucked her brother's blue and white hand-me-down jacket from its hook.

Threading her arms into the sleeves of the jacket, she started walking towards the direction of the Konoha library. Irritably, she bit out, "Stupid academy."

And later, when she'd spent ten hours trying to put textbook into practice, half-succeeding and half-failing to line chakra onto the soles of her feet, resulting in a freefall from a six-meter tall tree flat onto her ass, the five-year old Namikaze griped in frustration, "Stupid chakra control!"

If Rika's estimates were correct, she had a tight timeline and brother to save! Why couldn't jutsus be easier to learn, damn it?!

* * *

For months after Rika's recovery from the hospital, Minato refused to teach her anything about chakra or jutsus. Eventually though, with her relentless pestering, he caved in.

"There are twelve hand seals shinobi use to manifest their chakra: bird, boar, dog, dragon; hare, horse, monkey, ox; ram, rat, snake, tiger." Her brother demonstrated, pausing every four so she could mimic his hand movement. He would nod when she got a seal correctly, or move her fingers into the right position until she did.

Minato eyed her as she practiced and then murmured, "I don't know if this is a good idea…"

"Would you rather I went to the academy now?" Rika said distractedly as she went through the hand seals again. _Bird, monkey, rat, dog._ "Pretty sure I can pass the entrance exam for the shinobi department."

"Because a three-year-old who can do advanced geometry is normal?" He replied dryly.

"And a flee-on-sight command for a teenager is?" she shot back.

"I'm a _jounin." Ox, ram, hare, boar._ Rika raised a brow and her companion winced. "Touché."

"It's not like clan kids don't get early education from private tutors," she muttered. _Tiger, horse, snake, dragon._ "Aren't they taught how to throw kunai the same age they're given chopsticks?"

"Yes, Rika, but we _aren't a clan_." Minato said with a pressing tone. "I'm the one who should do the protecting. Not the other way around."

She dropped her hands to her lap and smiled softly at him. "I know that you want me safe."

The jounin sighed. "But?"

"But… whether you like it or not… I'm going to learn how to make fireballs and blow up stuff!" Rika rubbed her hands together with glee. "No way am I letting you have all the fun!"

Minato shuddered. "Where did my adorable imouto go?"

As if the toddler hadn't heard anything, she piped, "On that note! Can I borrow some kunai? I already know how to use chopsticks, so..."

" _No._ " Her brother's reply was quick, instinctual. Another raised brow, and then reluctantly, " _Fine._ But only after you learn your kata. And you'll start with _practice kunai_."

The blonde began to buzz excitedly. "Deal!"

Minato sighed again. For the next couple of hours, he lounged quietly next to his sister on the engawa as she committed each hand seal to memory. As the afternoon droned on, he started to notice how quickly the three-year-old was learning to perform the twelve hand seals in succession, her hand movements gradually gaining speed – and yet retaining precision with each transition – fingers fumbling close to none as the practice went on.

Brows furrowed in concentration, Rika continued to familiarize herself with each seal. Unaware of the deep, considerable stare the jounin was giving her, she flitted from one animal to another.

A sense of dread filled Minato's gut when bits of energy started to leak from her fingertips.

_Don't tell me…_

"Rika," he called out, and her head snapped up to meet his gaze. "Do you mind trying something for me?"

* * *

The day she convinced her brother to teach her the twelve fundamental animal seals was the same day he discovered that, despite their civilian ancestry, both of them had a natural affinity to manifest chakra. Rika brushed this off and attributed to it to her matured mindset. Given that she was a thirty-year-old in a three-year-old's body, she had better understanding of her mind and control of her physique, Rika reasoned. That ought to have compensated for her capability to manifest chakra.

And she was right. Though her chakra easily manifested, Rika struggled to concretize it. Her chakra leaked and dissipated into the air when she attempted to transform its energy into jutsu. For this problem, Minato advised that she learn the specifics of the chakra pathway to direct its flow better. "Meditate," he added. "It develops chakra control."

After that, he gave a run-through of the routine she'd have to keep up (for the rest of her life) which consisted of an _unholy_ amount of stretching, and a series of kata that imitated defense-and-attack motions designed to prepare her body for striking and going on the offensive.

Watching her brother demonstrate each routine was _mesmerizing._ She'd been speechless, gaping at him as she watched the jounin lose himself to his own concentration. His movements were so sharp they'd cut through the wind, and his feet burrowed into the earth with a certain firmness that she didn't even doubt the steadiness of his form.

When she learned her kata, Minato had followed on his promise and gave her a set of rubber kunai to start with. On her first attempt with a target board, he smothered his laughter into his flak jacket. Rika missed the target by a clean three feet. Like a blind idiot.

Rika reddened to the tips of her ears.

"Not a complete natural then," he teased.

She puffed her cheeks at him. "Not everyone is a prodigy like you!"

When she brought up her lack of strength, he immediately prohibited her from using weights. "There is only so much that a small body can take. Strength is muscular, yes, but your body has to grow on its own before you even want to build up muscle," he said. "For the meantime, focus on the advantages having of a smaller body. Being light means you're faster. Quicker. Focus on that. Start with running, and then build your stamina from there."

Once a month, he sparred with her (or more like she tried to land even one hit on him). Her brother was so beyond her level it was humbling.

"Minato-nii, you're amazing!" she had remarked, stars in her eyes. "I want to grow up just like you!"

Maybe it was because she'd said it so suddenly, but the jounin's face erupted into a shade of red that resembled a tomato and she watched her idol of a brother crumple into the ground. She could make out some of the words coming from him, like "adorable," "off-guard," and "killing machine."

"Did I say something wrong?"

Face hidden in his jacket, he reassured her he was just having "technical problems."

Over time, he'd loosened up enough and introduced his friends. Sometimes they would come over and she would watch them spar in the garden. Kushina-nee was a lot of fun (even if she kept pulling Rika into her chest which always suffocated her) but Shikaku was by far her favorite. He usually couldn't be bothered, but once, he'd gotten up from the engawa and corrected her form, enumerating the various injuries she would have inflicted on herself with bad habits and carelessness.

"It won't matter if you train countless hours a day if your form is negligent." Shikaku told her. "Maintain good posture. Be diligent in training."

Surprised, she responded, "Yes, Nara-san!"

He went back to his place and lazed around the patio after that. She executed one, final routine for good measure before calling it a day.

"Kid," he eyed at her when she sprawled on the space beside him. "Not that I don't admire your dedication, but don't you want to, you know, be a kid? Run around, play outside? Get some friends?"

Rika laughed breathily. She liked to live her life outside of training, too. She told him of the long walks she took around the village, meeting weird people. Konoha was full of them, no matter which nook of the town she ended up. She told him about finding some civilian kids around her age, but Snot-Nosed Guru-kun and Spoiled-Brat Sacchan liked to make fun of her hair, so she mostly kept to herself instead. She was lucky enough that her brother gave her an allowance – not a lot, really, just enough to keep her entertained. She would either spend it around town or on some questionable books, but when her pockets came up empty, she would just… train at home. Read. There wasn't really much to do, given the political climate of the country.

"And, besides, there's a war going on." Rika concluded in a somber tone. "Konoha needs all the help it can get, right?"

Shikaku frowned. He hadn't pegged Minato to have given the war talk to his four-year-old sister, but he couldn't blame him, either. Because it was true. Soldiers were getting younger and younger with the war underway...

* * *

A year into Rika's training, the Namikaze siblings had to face the inevitable. It was war time, after all, and Minato had received his missive to be deployed to the warfront.

Over the months of her brother's absence, Rika wrote him letters that outlined her improvements and questions. In every letter, she would assure him that she was fine (and not living off street food and eating her vegetables) and that she couldn't wait until he was home. He'd panicked when Rika had written that she'd gotten her hands on his secret stash of trap-making kits and bomb-tagging reference books, hidden in the thin crevice between kitchen cupboards. Rika appeased his concerns by promising to consult the village library's resources before she went beyond her kata, meditation, or daily training regimen. She figured he wasn't really worried about her _surviving_ – she was smart enough, she could cook and clean and look after herself – but she did admit to having a certain streak of mischief.

Her brother's mistrust hadn't been unfounded. In her many attempts at amateur bomb-making, she'd admitted to setting fire to their living room at least twice in their correspondence (the real number being close to fifteen, but there were only two scorch marks she couldn't get rid of. She wasn't getting in more trouble than necessary).

Her brother may have been a thousand miles away, but she found herself chastened by his reply. He made her promise to take her experimentations elsewhere. _I can't keep worrying about you when I'm fighting a war,_ he'd written. _Don't burn the house down._

Laying low from her brother's passive aggressive wrath, she dialed down The Shenanigans and found other things to keep her occupied. In the library, she combed the shelves for subjects she was interested in. There, she read on the chakra system theory and the three categories of jutsu, namely: ninjutsu, genjutsu, and taijutsu. Only the first two involved the manifestation and direction chakra from within a person or the environment, and they differentiated by how chakra was extended and transformed into various forms of power. Specifically, ninjutsu manifested chakra using a combination of seals or the use of weaponry, while genjutsu transformed chakra into false images and sensory illusions which were superimposed on the plane of reality. The third type, taijutsu, was considered to be most fundamental: it was both mental and physical, and involved the simultaneous development of form, strength, and stamina of the shinobi, and his capacity to sustain the damage of own body and resist fatigue during combat.

Rika threw herself into mastering the fundamentals. Manifesting chakra from her tenketsu (or pressure points in her hands and feet), holding it into concrete shape, and then transforming it into simple jutsu. She started simple – allowing the energy to coat her hand and holding it there. When she was able to maintain its shape for prolonged periods, she experimented by pouring them into her makeshift chakra-activated seals and bomb-tags. In the training grounds, of course. Far, _very far_ from their wooden house.

The earlier she had them down, the earlier she could start her plan, she decided.

She just didn't think it would begin the way it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had 20k words written for the Chapter 1 but decided to cut and stretch the Academy Arc into multiple chapters. For the past month, I've had to memorize narutopedia to confirm which canon themes I'd like to keep, manipulate, or completely disregard (lol). Then I had to map out the entire plotline of PT (which I was able to do omg) so I know exactly how this story is going to go and end. I can't wait to share Rika's journey with all of you. Btw, still no beta. All mistakes are mine. Let me know what you think!  
> 


	3. Academy Arc - 2: Little Chick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rika meets a war veteran. Alternatively: a war veteran meets Rika.

**Precision Tactics**

**Chapter Two**

At five years old (and eleven months!), Rika had already figured out how to properly allocate her monthly allowance. A huge chunk of it would directly pay for house utilities and groceries, but she always made sure to stow enough yen for her chakra ink supply. Materials were pretty pricey lately, just like most commodities whose trade chains were disturbed by the on-going war, but she’d adjusted by rationing her hobbies’ expenses and cooking her own meals at home.

Rika was on her way home from the market, one hand tossing and catching spare coins into the air and the other carrying a bag of her dinner’s ingredients, when a commotion in the streets catches her attention. People were starting to gather at the curbside, gawking at the spectacle of two adults – shinobi, by the look of their outfits – in an argument.

“How _dare_ you show your face here!” The first shinobi cried indignantly, index finger pointed at the man opposite to him. Rika’s eyes widened when she identified Kakashi’s father – Hatake Sakumo – at the receiving end of the shinobi’s ire. She barely recognizes him due to the drastic change in his appearance, but the white, spiky hair on his head coupled with the red, fiery insignia on his sleeve simply could not belong to anyone else but Konoha’s White Fang.

The Hatake patriarch had always donned a tired-looking expression on his face, but there was a defeated hunch to his shoulders this time, a distinct paleness to his skin. Rika remembered him having a subtle kindness to his features, but even that had gone. He looked… blank. A canvas of the man he used to be. He had darkened hues under heavy-lidded eyes and stubble littering the sides of his face.

Rika winced. She had entirely forgotten about him.

“Hiro-san, please, lower your voice… I’m not here to cause trouble…” She heard Sakumo reply to the shinobi in a placating manner, palms upturned. His eyes darted nervously at the crowd that started whispering around them. “If you could just listen…”

Hiro’s wife intervenes when the commotion grows. She pulls her husband back to the entryway of their household and turns to level the white-haired jounin with a glare. “Hatake-san. How many times do I have to ask this of you? Please leave.”

“I’m sorry… I…” Chastised, Sakumo dropped his head and stepped away. “I’m sorry.”

The tight frown doesn’t leave the wife’s face even as Sakumo turns to leave. The scene eventually disperses with him, but Rika stays rooted, opting to hide behind one of the street posts. Intrigued, she continues to observe Hiro’s wife as she keeps her gaze trained on Sakumo’s retreating figure.

“Don’t be sorry, Hatake-san.” Rika hears Hiro’s wife whisper under her breath. “Don’t be.”

When Sakumo’s back finally disappears from view, Hiro’s wife lets out a deep breath before tightening her yukata around her. After scanning her surroundings, she slides back into the comfort of her home.

Rika leaned against the pillar and sighed. “I see.” And although there was no one around to talk to, she continued to muse out loud. “He dies today, doesn’t he?”

Kakashi would come home soon enough. He would come running, eager to tell Sakumo of his latest success, only to be greeted by his father’s cold corpse on the floor. And even though Konoha’s White Fang spent the last of his days asking for forgiveness, none of the neighbors would answer Kakashi’s frantic calls for help. Nobody will help him bury Sakumo’s body. After all, to the eyes of the village, Kakashi’s father was a disgrace. A man who had been too weak to make the necessary sacrifice.

But what exactly had Rika just witnessed? Hadn’t she heard gratitude from Hiro’s wife just moments ago?

And then Rika realizes.

 _Of course_ Hiro’s wife was thankful. _Of course_ she appreciated what Sakumo did. He made the choice to bring her husband home _alive_ – all at expense of his own reputation. But she could never thank him, could she? No. Not at all. Not outright. Not when the village continued to suffer from the war. They would shun her, just like they did with Sakumo. They wouldn’t understand.

_Walk away, Rika. This isn’t the plan._

She pushes herself off the post and starts walking in the opposite direction Sakumo had taken. Her hands clench into fists at her sides.

She was going straight home.

_I’m sorry, Kakashi._

* * *

_You’re better off dead._

Sakumo agrees with the voice in his head. Sitting on the grass bed, he reaches into his flak jacket and cradles a glass vial between his thumb and index finger. Inspecting the vial against the sunset, he figures that if he drank just half of its contents, he would still have enough time and energy to make the trip back home. It would take at least three minutes and fifteen seconds for his body to succumb to the poison if he didn’t fight it at all. What mattered was that every last moment would be as painful as possible – in lucid, indomitable agony – because that was what he deserved.

_I’m sorry, Kakashi._

“What’s that, mister?” A small voice jolted Sakumo out of his trance. His gaze landed on a blonde, blue-eyed toddler, face peering down at him innocently. “Can I have some?”

“No, I…” His throat feels dry when he swallows. “This isn’t for kids.”

“Oh. Like sake?” The kid grins at him cheekily. “I’ve always wanted to taste!”

Sakumo panics when the toddler’s hand blurs – _so fast!_ – and grabs the vial from him in the blink of an eye. A squawk escapes him as the toddler inspects the bottle against the sunlight. Quickly, he pushes himself upright and scrambles to take the vial back from the kid, but every reach of his arm is evaded effortlessly.

Soon enough, he’s running after her all over town. “You – come back!”

If the Hokage could see him now. Out of breath, out of shape, chasing after a kid like a laughingstock. Hiruzen was right to pull him out of the covert ops roster. Without even noticing it, he’d spent the four years wallowing in his guilt and self-loathing. When was the last time he’d trained? Summoned his ninken? Ate three meals in a day? Slept a full night? Sakumo couldn’t remember, and he knew he’d fallen far.

He catches up to the toddler when she slows down to a stop. Hunched over as he catches his breath, wobbly knees dig into his palms. “Don’t – don’t open that!” He shouts breathily. “It’s dangerous!”

Rika pauses from uncorking the bottle and hums thoughtfully. “But it has such a pretty color?”

Despite his newfound energy and resolve, the toddler maneuvers around Sakumo’s grabby hands again, twirling and dancing at his attempts to retrieve the vial. She giggles and dips into one of the house’s courtyards.

Sakumo lets out a groan of frustration. “Look, kid, just give it back. This might be someone’s property—”

“Hatake-san,” Sakumo recoils when he finds the toddler staring at him intensely, all traces of mischief gone. Leaning against the shoji doors of the traditional house, she crossed her arms and demanded, “Don’t you remember me at all?”

He looks over the kid again. She had deep, yellow hair, flowing past her shoulder in soft waves. Cerulean-colored eyes. She didn’t have a clan emblem stitched on any of her clothes, but her hands had scuff marks, too coarse and too marred to be just another civilian kid. The wind blew – oddly enough, carrying the unmistakable scent of black powder and chakra ink coming from the kid in front of him. _Bombs._ An academy student then. Her features looked striking enough, and he feels as if he _should_ remember, but with the current state of his mind…. he doesn’t.

He hesitates. “Do I know you?”

The toddler’s mouth pinches further into a straight line. “Don’t you remember this house at all?”

Sakumo’s brows furrow further in as he considers the sight in front of him. Had he been here before? “No, I… I don’t.”

“That’s… okay. I’ll remind you.” Rika slides the door open with ease and turns back to wave him inside. “Come in. I’ll make us dinner.”

“No, I – Look, just give me the—”

“Nobody else is at home, Hatake-san. You won’t be disturbing anyone. So come in.” The toddler said stubbornly. Eyes darkened as she glared at him. “I’m not letting Kakashi-kun come home to a dead father. I know this is poison.”

At her words, Sakumo felt his arms drop at his sides. The tenseness in his shoulders dissipated, defeated by weighted guilt yet again, and he quiets down with a toneless mutter, “…you know Kakashi?”

“Come in, Hatake-san.” Rika repeats sternly, stomping on the urge to placate him. She needs to be firm with Sakumo. She needs to stand by this decision. Stepping into her house and removing her sandals, she tells him a little gentler, ”Let’s get some tea into your system.”

She’s changing everything by doing this.

* * *

_Clang!_

Kakashi greets his opponent’s kunai with a clash of his own. They had been so careful in covering up their tracks after nicking the enemy scouts’ food reserves, but of course Obito just _had_ to carry more than what he could to impress Rin. As they jumped from one tree to another, the Uchiha chuunin miscalculated his landing step and activated a tripwire, alerting the enemy camp of their presence. Now discovered, Iwa-nin arrived at their location in seconds, weapons brandished and killing intent directed towards them in stifling waves.

“Dammit, Obito!” Rin hissed as she engaged two of the scouts in hand-to-hand combat. “You’re doing all the C’s and D’s alone when we get back!”

“Fine!” Obito barked back before casting a genjutsu to misdirect the onslaught of shuriken headed Kakashi’s way. “Plan C, captain!” He cried to the jounin. “They won’t let us leave without a fight!”

 _Obviously! We’re outnumbered!_ Kakashi thought as he swept downwards and threw his opponent off-balance. “Then you know what to do, bird brain!”

As Rin and Kakashi flickered away to hide themselves, Obito laughed nervously. Now that he was left alone in the enemy scouts’ presence, their deadly gazes were completely and solely locked on him. Without as much as a breath, he broke into a quick sprint through the trees, threading his lean body between branches and tree gaps, keeping his eyes wide open for trapwires as he ran deeper into the forest this time. He manages to lose them once, twice, but their tracker is _good_ and determined to capture him – dead or alive.

The chasing ends when he gets cornered at a small clearing.

“Lemme guess. Plan C was self-sacrifice?” One of the scouts laughs at him menacingly. They start to surround him from all sides. “You really shoulda stayed at home, kid.”

Obito wrinkled his nose. He pointed to the skies with a haughty look. The Iwa-nin’s gazes followed, and Rin suddenly propelled from the trees and into the sky, hovering mid-air with her hands clasped together in front of her mouth in the telltale handseal of a jutsu. Immediately, the Iwa scouts scrambled for cover, but the ground started to melt and rumble under them, their limbs sinking into the soil. High walls rose around the clearing, effectively trapping them in place – Kakashi’s mud wall jutsu.

“You wish!” Obito snorted. “Plan C was make _me_ the star of the show!”

Obito switched places with a shuriken he threw Rin’s way. Suspended mid-air beside each other, hands moving in sync, – two different jutsu, two different styles, a killer combo nonetheless – they locked their gazes on the opposite team with cold finality.

 _SnakeRamMonkeyBoarHorseTiger –_ Obito formed a ring with his thumb and index finger and put it against his mouth – _RatSnakeHorseSnakeDog_ – Rin breathed in her nostrils and mouth simultaneously – both their chakra allowing their deep inhales to surpass lung capacity, converting their breaths into unbelievable force—

“Fire Style: Fire Breath!”

“Wind Style: Vacuum Wave!”

Knees rooted deep into the soil, trapped and helpless, the Iwagakure scouts could only stare in horror as the fiery tornado engulfed them in the makeshift melting mudpot. Their screams gradually died down with the loss of the fire, and Rin and Obito landed onto the edge of the clearing shortly after. Rin swayed as she landed, Obito grunting as he cushioned her fall into his side.

“Chakra’s depleted,” Rin said tiredly. She smacked the top of Obito’s head with a weak fist. “You idiot.”

“There are bones left to dispose of,” Kakashi greeted them with a bored gaze as he emerged from his hiding spot and inspected the clearing. “Obito – give Rin a soldier pill then retrieve the packs you dropped in the forest. We still need to re-supply the camp. Rin – if you can resist the fatigue, help him. The faster we get out of here, the better.” Obito was too tired to complain so he did as instructed. Before Obito could disappear back into the forest, Kakashi called out, “And you know that wasn’t Plan C!”

“Oh, right, that was Plan B, wasn’t it?” Obito grinned cheekily. A kunai grazed his cheek and embedded itself into the tree next to this face. “Alright, Rin, I’m going, I’m going! Crazy woman.”

When he was gone, Rin snorted. “Once a bird brain, always a bird brain.”

“It was seven against three.” Kakashi sighed, annoyed. “We only pulled it off because they treated us like kids.”

“Doesn’t matter. Our advantage, their mistake. And out here, you don’t get to make the same mistake twice.” Rin slapped her thighs twice – forcibly shaking them awake – before pushing herself up to follow after Obito. “Let’s meet Minato-sensei at recon point then go home. It’s been a year since I last saw dad.”

Kakashi gazed to the sky briefly before huffing and squaring his shoulders. “Sounds good.”

He pulled a couple of storage scrolls from his flak jacket before making his way to the toasted cesspit of bones. His nose wrinkled at the smell of burnt flesh.

_Smells weird._

* * *

Rika doesn’t force Sakumo to make his way into the house. She leaves the door open for him, lets him decide whether he wants to at all, and at his own pace.

She doesn’t hear his footsteps in the entryway until the kettle starts whistling. He takes a seat at the dining table without a word and buries his face into his hands. She places a cup of tea near him and moves around the kitchen in search for spices and kitchenware, shooting him a glance every now and then.

They both let the sound of her cooking fill the silence.

Rika knows that shinobi are expected to make sacrifices. They’re not _ordinary_ _people_. They’re military operatives, licensed killing machines, deep wells of brute strength and morbid techniques raised with the skillset to annihilate villages if needed. For the greater good, one would reason, for survival. For victory. They weren’t allowed to have thoughts and inclinations of their own – at least, not when in missions. They had obligations to fulfill, after all. Obligations to the village, to the hokage, to themselves. To the people they swore to protect.

At an early age, they would have been ripped from their childhood daydreams and thrown into the ruthless jungle of war and politics. By the time they learned to survive, they would have developed either a taste for bloodshed or a numbness to killing. The ghosts of the dead would haunt them for the rest of their lives – no matter how long or short that was meant to be. But no matter how grueling their lives were, or how well they learned to live with themselves, humanity always came and caught up with them.

Shinobi aged, outgrew their mechanical lives, developed their own principles. It never stayed black and white – life never does – especially not when shinobi persevere in the sea of red. Not when they start to question good and bad. God and evil. Life and killing. And when shinobi can no longer reconcile the two facades of their lives, their masks start to chip, piece by piece, until eventually, they break.

And right now, in her kitchen, Rika was staring at the face of a man who was barely hanging from the tip of a glass precipice.

“You’ve been here before. A year ago or so,” Rika recounted casually. “Kakashi-kun wanted to introduce his father to his sensei before they left for the mission.”

Sakumo’s head snaps up and recognition dawns in his eyes. “…Ah. Namikaze.” He wipes a hand across his face. “You’re his sister.”

Rika nods once. She turns back to the kitchen countertop and gives the soup a final stir before closing the stove. She prepares two plates of rice and drapes it with curry stew, placing pieces of meat on top before setting their servings on the table. Sakumo mutters a low thanks. Rika nods. She can tell he doesn’t have the appetite.

Rika postpones the interrogation until after they’ve eaten, and Sakumo insists to wash the dishes. She lets him, because it gives her some time to run a list of all the possible things she could say. A headache builds just by considering the repercussions of what she’d done. What she was doing. And yet… she didn’t feel the least bit apologetic.

She doesn’t have enough time in the world to unpack her thoughts, so instead, she blurts out, “I don’t blame you, Hatake-san.”

She sees his shoulders tense.

She sighs. “For the war. For what you did. For what you tried to do.”

He doesn’t respond for a minute, and she watches him put back the dishes on the rack one by one. When the dishes are done, and there was nothing else to delay the conversation, Sakumo turned to face her and leaned against the sink.

“Why not?” He demanded, curt. The self-loathing becomes apparent in his voice when he continues, “A disgrace of a shinobi. A disgrace of a father. Earlier, I asked myself, ‘Would Kakashi be alright without me?’ ‘Would Kakashi know how to scrub blood off the floor?’ and then I thought to myself, ‘It doesn’t matter. He’ll be fine.’ Because I won’t be there making his life harder for him.”

“I don’t think—”

“And Kakashi’s started wearing this mask on his face, you know?” He gestured around his face with an open hand. “People are starting to recognize him as my son. We look so alike that they don’t know any better than pushing my mistakes onto him. You’d think people would at least spare him.” He laughed hollowly. “But who would spare the son of a traitor?”

“A traitor.” Rika echoed dubiously. “You?”

“Because I had the opportunity to end the war and I didn’t.” Sakumo answered simply. “It wouldn’t have lasted this long if I hadn’t suspended that mission. My teammates were ready to sacrifice their lives, but I made the call to retreat.” Sakumo held Rika’s gaze. “I pulled back.”

Rika made a face. “Well… why did you?”

“Because I didn’t want their blood on my hands. Not Hiro’s. Not Seichii’s. I wasn’t going to come home with their corpses in scrolls. What face would I have given their wives? Their children?” He tilted his head to the ceiling and sighed. “They trusted me to do the right thing. The _village_ trusted me to do the right thing. I didn’t.”

Rika leaned back into her chair and mused, “Isn’t that a matter of opinion?”

“Opinion.” Sakumo laughed again, just as empty as before. “Survival isn’t an opinion, Hiyoko-chan.” Rika scowled at him. _Little chick?!_ “It’s a privilege. A choice. A righteous sacrifice. But opinion?” He shook his head.

“My _name_ is Rika.” She reminded him with a frown before pulling up her knees to her chest and grumbling, “I know it doesn’t mean much coming from someone who isn’t even genin, but every time my brother comes back, I’m thankful. Because that means he had teammates who made sure he got home. To Konoha. To _me._ ” She sniffed. “To choose the well-being of your teammates over the success of a mission… Sometimes we owe an obligation to each other before anyone else. And those who aren’t in the field don’t understand that.”

“It’s easier for them to decommission a ninja than to declare a mission failure,” Sakumo agreed. “They like to think we’re not people.”

Rika rested her cheek on her knee as she gazed up at the White Fang. “Even if we’re ready to give our lives, not a single one of us is disposable. Not Hiro-san. Not Seiichi-san. Not my brother, not me. Not even you, Sakumo-san.” Rika held his dark gaze evenly. “You did the right thing.”

* * *

_You did the right thing._

Time suspends between them. Sakumo’s breath catches in his throat.

It’s the first time he hears this voice in his head. He can’t be certain anything he’s experienced this day is real, but he watches the child rise from her seat and anchor him with wide, beguiling eyes.

“Sakumo-san,” she repeats firmly, each word deliberate and genuine. “You did the right thing.”

His mask falls, and a streak of sunlight creeps into the window of his soul.

* * *

Rika barely understood what was happening until Sakumo sunk to the floor.

His sobs were hesitant at first. Quiet. Then the entirety of his form shook, and Rika left her place to wrap her hands around him, her arms so short they barely even touched each other as they circled around him in an embrace. It could have taken minutes, hours – Rika barely noticed the passage of time in the company of the White Fang wailing in anguish as his arms gripped around her, each sob escaping his chest in dry, heaving breaths.

When Sakumo pulled back eventually, his eyes were bloodshot. “Uh… What was your name again? Ah whatever. Hiyoko-chan!”

The moment broke, and Rika’s brow ticked in annoyance. She patted the top of her head down consciously, perfectly aware of how messy her hair had gotten after being chased through the village. “My _name_ is _Rika!”_

Sakumo laughed under his breath before languidly making his way out of the dining area to compose himself. He stopped next to the sofa and squinted at the documents on the coffee table. “Oh? Is this what I think it is?”

He bent down as he inspected the stack of her exam results for her admission to the academy’s shinobi department.

“You’re going to the academy?” Sakumo’s gaze darkened at her when she nodded. “How old are you?”

Rika resisted the urge to shiver. “Six.”

“Ah.” His gaze flitted at the papers before settling on her again. “My son was six when he graduated. Now look at him, out in the war himself. Is that what you want?”

“I…” Rika winced. “Well…”

“At the academy, one of the first things they’ll teach you is how to hold kunai.” He set the papers down, dusted his trousers, and then his hands. “Then they’ll teach you a hundred ways to kill with them. Is that what you want?”

“Sakumo-san—”

“You’ll have blood on your hands even when they’re wiped clean. People will be afraid of you, and they won’t understand, and you’ll never know how much you’ve given up until you can’t give any more—”

“Sakumo-san!“ Rika interrupted in frustration. “Please, listen to me. There’s something you need to know.”

Averting her gaze from the snow-haired jounin, Rika’s fingers gripped at the hem of her shirt.

 _Thisisnottheplanthisisnottheplanthisisnottheplan_ —

Rika hesitated. "What do you know about seals, Sakumo-san?"

There was a subtle, suspicious shift in his eyes when he finally replied. "…Enough. Why?"

Apprehensively, Rika lifted her shirt, displaying the four-character seal inscribed on her stomach.

She was going to be in so much trouble when Minato came home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you’re going to say. In canon, Sakumo died when Kakashi was five. Here in PT, Sakumo holds on for about 4 years before he contemplates suicide. Why? Because I could not pit 2-year-old Rika who just got reincarnated into the timeline right off the bat. It just wouldn’t make sense. I mean, who cares, Kakashi’s canon timeline is already so fucked up and Makes No Sense™ so what’s moving a few more years around gonna do to Kakashi? (They literally want me to rationalize how he graduated early from academy at 6, jounin at 8, but he’s on Team Minato with non-prodigies Obito and Rin when they’re at an appropriate age and they went to the academy together at some point, and basically Kakashi’s timeline is something I never want to wish on a plothole-obsessed author, ever. End rant.) Anyway, in PT, Kakashi is 8-9ish when Sakumo considers suicide. This means Kakashi has endured four more years of his father being ostracized, and Sakumo becomes the Unreliable Narrator of the past four years of his life due to his mental health crisis. Memory loss is a depression thing. For Kakashi, I think this makes him more eager to prove himself and redeem his father. But we all know shit’s about to go down.  
> P.S. Rin is not as sweet-tempered when we first see her in PT and I think she deserves to be a lil bit snappy. She’s been at the warlines for 1 whole year with two knuckleheads as teammates. She can do ninjutsu here, but just this very one wind style that was enough to get her into chuunin rank. Sweet!Rin will be seen when she comes back to Konoha. A-ha, I have answered and pre-empted all your concerns! *cowers behind wall because I am shamelessly writing a light-hearted canon divergence fic for my own selfish needs* See you next chapter – a little worldbuilding is in order.


	4. Academy Arc - 3: Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rika meets a bunch of clan kids.

**Precision Tactics**

**Chapter Three**

Rika had no problem waking up early for her first day at the academy. She'd forgotten to slide her windows fully closed the night before, and the morning chill seeped into her bedroom in a misty fog as the dawn broke. Sluggishly pushing herself out of bed, she stretched her arms above her head then rubbed the bleariness away from her vision. With half a mind, she folded her comforter and her futon, stored it in the bedroom closet, then proceeded to change out of her night clothes.

A couple of days prior, she had rummaged around her brother's old things and found clothes that he'd outgrown from long ago. And although her brother's blue and white jacket fit her a bit too loosely when she had shrugged it on, she _loved_ everything about it – the secret, handsewn pockets in between seams, the soft, cotton comfort despite the chain mesh underlining – and promptly decided that she couldn't possibly find a better article to top her school outfit with. And maybe she was being a bit too sentimental, but with Minato's year-long absence, having a piece of him around her just felt… right. Reassuring.

Like everything would be okay.

After brushing out the knots in her hair and patting her face awake, she went out of her room and into the kitchen where she fell into her usual morning routine. As the rice cooked, she completed her stretches on the patio and swept around the gardens. On her way back, she'd plucked some camellia blossoms to replace the wilting flowers in the vase of her parents' memorial shrine. After adjusting their picture frames, she alighted two incense sticks, clapped her hands twice, and offered a small prayer under her breath.

"Mama, papa." She said quietly. "Today I start school. Please watch over me."

If Minato were home, his mouth would definitely be tipped downward at her, frowning like he always did when she included their father as she tended to the butsudan.

A smile pulled at the edge of her lip. She could almost hear his exasperated huff next to her.

 _"_ _Rika. I don't understand why you want to keep having this argument every morning."_

 _"_ _Exactly._ " She would reply with a roll of her eyes. _"So stop bothering me about it and go make breakfast."_

As the rice finished cooking, she went back to the kitchen and put together a bento with grilled vegetables and some of the night's leftovers. For breakfast, she made two onigiri and stuffed it with pickled plum. By the time she finished washing the dishes and brushing her teeth, she still had an hour and a half to make her way to school.

It was probably best if she went early, Rika decided. She would have enough time to find her classroom if she got lost; maybe even get a head start on the introductions and meet her classmates.

"Itekimasu." She bid as she exited the house.

Her morning went well enough. The academy couldn't be so bad, could it?

* * *

Bad.

It was bad.

When Rika finally managed to squeeze her way through the sea of parents at the makeshift reception area crowding the academy gates, she had emerged harried and out of breath. At the courtyard, she found academy teachers struggling to round up hyperactive toddlers according to their designated classes and approached one of them for help. Upon request, she fished the admission letter out from her bag and handed it over. The teacher looked back at her in surprise after skimming through it.

"Well, it says here," the teacher began consideringly. "That you can go ahead to the third-floor lecture hall."

While she found her classroom easily enough, all notions of preparedness and fitting in with her peers were quickly destroyed by the scene that greeted her when she slid into the room.

Wide eyes stared back at her. Boys and girls had already huddled into their own groups – Hyuugas, Uchihas, Inuzukas, various clan kids seated comfortably amongst their own – the unmistakable Ino-Shika-Cho children lounging next to each other at the back benches… And it all made so much _sense_ – clan kids grew up together and ran around in the same social circles, after all; teaming up and looking out for each other in the academy would be the obvious consequence. Rika could only match the complex befuddlement in their expressions as the awkward silence progressed.

Finally, one of them spoke. "Eh? It's a kid."

A snort. " _You're_ a kid, Shou."

"You know what I mean, Yuka." Shou turned to face her again, brows raised. "Aren't you lost?"

Rika's stomach dropped. They weren't her age _at all._ Judging by the overall height and physical differences amongst them, the kids staring back at her probably ranged from nine to eleven years old. It really didn't help that she was barely half the Aburame leaning on the wall next to her.

Looking down at her feet, Rika shook her head. "The teacher said to go here."

"Ah. You probably scored high on the entrance exam then." The girl named Yuka sniffed. "Like Izumi. Oi, Izumi!" Yuka howled to one of the Uchiha at the front. "Looks like you two weren't the only ones promoted this year."

Rika inclined herself to a slight bow. "Well, nice to meet you. Please take care of—"

Yuka ignored her, continuing with a squint, "You're not from a clan, are you?"

Rika shook her head.

Yuka shared a brief, meaningful look with the kids next to her and shrugged dismissively. "Yeah, it happens. The admission test is multiple choice now so that even civilian kids can pass. You probably guessed most of the assessment modules correctly. That's why you got bumped up several levels. They _really_ need foot soldiers for the war, you know?" Yuka turned away from her with a scoff. "Don't worry though, when the practicals become too hard for you, they'll demote you back to the theoretical grade levels where you belong."

The queasiness in the blonde's disposition dissolved in an instant. Eye-twitching annoyance nearly showed on Rika's face, but she bit her tongue _hard_ and thinned her mouth into a straight line. "I see."

The chatter in the classroom resumed gradually after that. Quietly, Rika made her way to the only open seat in the room. The Namikaze kept her head down, and Izumi sent an apologetic look her way when she passed by the brown-haired Uchiha to get to the front bench. Rika shrugged it off. Her thoughts were running a mile a minute as she settled in her seat and waited for the clock to strike seven. When the teacher finally slid through the door, it was nearly eight in the morning, and Rika had been praying for the ground to swallow her whole.

"Hmm. So. As you all can see, we have some new additions to our class this year…" The teacher's gaze surveyed through the classroom languidly. "But most of you have met by now anyway, so we'll go ahead and skip introductions." Rika blanched. The teacher didn't even bother to introduce himself and proceeded to write on the blackboard. "Right, this'll be your schedule for next week, make sure you have a copy of the reference material we'll be using. If you can't afford it there's always the library…" Rika sank further into her seat. "And we're having bukijutsu classes the week after that, so make sure you have your own sets of kunai and shuriken by then. Alright?"

The class assented. "Hai, Machida-sensei."

Rika sighed. So her teacher's name was Machida.

She steeled herself with a deep breath. Dutifully, she began to take notes of Machida's droning lecture. An hour melded into four as the teacher outlined the fundamental courses the class had gone through the past years. Judging by the yawns and bored gazes of the students around her, the lecture seemed to be a recap crash course, probably more for the benefit of the newcomers like her and Izumi. However, as the chuunin teacher went over geography, history, chakra theory, and science, he only had a miniscule part of the Namikaze's attention. His comprehensive discussion on various subjects only confirmed what Rika already knew from the textbooks and manuals she'd already dog-eared from Minato's shelves, and the most her interest had peaked was when they were distributed a communications handbook – a dossier on coded language, sign language, spoken and unspoken cues to relay information in tricky situations, or in the deadly quiet of the battlefield. Unfortunately, the handbook was explicit academy property – something they couldn't bring outside the classroom or reproduce in any way – and Machida-sensei made it perfectly clear that their only option to pass was to memorize each chapter in class meetings.

Her classmates started filing out of the room when the lunch time bell rang.

"Those who were promoted, could you stay behind for a moment." Machida beckoned over with a look thrown her way. He glanced at the class list. "Eto… Rika, Izumi, Itachi. In front, please."

Rika looked up, startled at the name. She startled even more when the figure sitting next to her rose, and she took in the prodigious Uchiha's features with broad eyes as he passed by her. She'd been so caught up in her emotions and mile-a-minute thoughts that she hadn't _noticed._ Not until he walked right in front of her with his distinct blue-blooded looks. The lack of clarity in her state of mind usually wouldn't bother Rika, but she usually didn't have problems picking out people's presences by their chakra signatures either.

Blue eyes widened. Was Itachi already concealing his own chakra?

"I know being promoted will make it more difficult for you to adjust, since your peers will be older, but there just wouldn't be any sense in sending you to a grade where you wouldn't learn anything." Machida prompted when the three of them arrived at the teacher's desk. "But if any of you do encounter trouble, tell me and we'll get you sorted out." His eyes had settled over the Namikaze briefly as he said it. Rika gritted her teeth together. "There's also weekly Kunoichi classes for you girls, so don't forget to ask Ayame-sensei for the details at dismissal. Faculty room's at the second floor."

Rika's brows furrowed at him. "Kunoichi classes?"

"Flower arrangement, aesthetics… imperial etiquette and culture… A curriculum dedicated to the feminine wiles that may help you get the job done in the future." Machida elaborated tonelessly. Rika nodded. "For now, though, I'd worry more about taijutsu and ninjutsu classes. You wouldn't want to get matched up with a Hyuuga during sparring."

"Hai, Machida-sensei!" Izumi bowed. "I'm sure we'll do well if we give it our best!"

The teacher waved them away as he left. Rika went back to her desk and reached over her desk to grab her bento before pausing. She could literally _feel_ Izumi's nervous aura as the girl stepped to the front bench that she and Itachi shared.

"Eto… Yuka said she'd save us a table, so if you want to eat with us, Itachi-kun…" The red tinge in her cheeks was as ripe as a tomato. "Ah, you're welcome to eat with us too, Rika-chan…!"

Rika thought about it. Izumi seemed fine. Really. The girl was harmless, but Rika was definitely not interested (much less actually invited) to sharing a table with Yuka. She knew better than to start drama with children, so she opted to eat at the classroom instead.

"Thanks for the offer," Rika deposited herself back into the bench and began to lay out her bento. "But I'll eat here."

Rika was surprised when Itachi slid back into the bench, too. He pulled out his own lunch box and began to eat.

"I prefer where it's quiet" was all he said.

Izumi started to stutter about how she wanted to eat at the classroom anyway and took the empty seat next to Rika. They ate in awkward silence, and Rika was thankful she'd brought one of her brother's fuuinjutsu texts with her in case she got bored in class. After keeping her bento, she took it out and started reading.

"R-Rika-chan…" Izumi was trying to get her attention. When she looked up from her book, she found that Itachi had been reading to himself too. "I thought we could get to know each other, since we're, ah, the same age…"

Rika stared at her. "I might get transferred out soon. Apparently my scores were a fluke. You sure you want to get to know me?"

Izumi winced. "Erm… Please don't take what Yuka said to heart." She scratched the back of her head. "It does feel kind of unfair that they've been here for six years, and we got to their grade level right off the bat. And, well, Yuka… growing up with her… she's just… really like that. You know?" Izumi spared her a half-smile and a helpless shrug.

Rika made a quick side glance at Itachi, who had maintained the same disinterested face throughout the entire morning, then back at the friendly brunette. Minato would want her to make friends, right? And Izumi wasn't so bad…

Rika hummed short. "What do you want to know?"

Izumi brightened. "I didn't think I'd be promoted this far, to be honest, but I guess with my scores at the entrance exam, they considered it…" Izumi fumbled around her bag to retrieve her admissions letter. "See?"

Curiosity piqued, Rika leaned in. Her admission scores were somewhat near to Izumi's, too.

"You scored 600 on history," Rika noted. "Do you read Haradama Senju-sensei's books, too?"

Izumi actually _preened_ in response. "Yes! Senju-sensei's narration of the village's history is so succinct and yet so enticing at the same time. I honestly think I've re-read all his works at least ten times."

"Hence, the 600 scoring," Rika replied good-naturedly. Izumi grinned.

"What about you, Rika-chan? Ah, but it's completely fine if you don't want to let me see, I understand it might be—"

Rika rolled her eyes and reached for her bag. When she finally found which pocket she had stuffed her admissions letter in, she caught the sight of a redhead – the outrageous color all too familiar – walking past the corridor windows. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

"Ah! Here, look at it." Rika hurriedly shot out of the room after placing her results flat on the table.

The Namikaze was gone from the classroom even before the brown-haired Uchiha could blink twice. Izumi hesitated to lean over, but eventually started sputtering when she'd raked her gaze over the blonde's results.

" _E-Ehhh?!"_

Itachi spared a quick glance at the piece of paper that had the brunette in disbelief. 600s in all subjects.

Itachi sighed. Was that all? The entrance exam was easy, and he had scored 600s, too.

He didn't understand what the big deal was and lazily dragged his gaze back to his book.

* * *

"Kushina-nee?"

When the blonde caught up to the Uzumaki redhead, she noticed that the kunoichi was still wearing her jounin vest, crimson hair pulled up into a high ponytail. Rika froze mid-step as the older woman turned to face her.

Uzumaki Kushina looked like she was in dire need of sleep. Like she had just gotten home from a nine-month long border deployment but skipped the much-needed sleep to prowl through village grounds. And that was really was what happened – the kunoichi had gone straight to the Namikaze household upon returning to make sure the young Namikaze was doing okay alone, but was greeted by an empty house and the neighbor's news that Rika had actually started the academy that same morning. Rika found the jounin coming from the direction of the lower level classes, nearly dead on her feet, eyes peeled for the blonde toddler of interest in the classrooms she passed with mindless surveyance.

"But I guess, being Minato's sister… of course you got promoted." Kushina scratched the back of her head before guiding her to the side of the corridor.

The jounin yawned, stretching her arms before leaning forward and placing them on the windowsill. Being smaller, Rika placed her chin atop her fingers, slightly tiptoed as both of them took in the sight of genin playing in the courtyard.

"What do you think they're playing?" Rika asked curiously.

Kushina sent her a dry look. "Ninja."

"Ah." Of course.

The jounin tapped the windowsill twice before turning to stare at her intently. "So, how's your first day so far? Is everything okay?"

"Well…" Rika began weakly. At the edge of her vision, she saw Yuka, Shou, and the rest of her classmates coming back from the cafeteria, walking towards their way. "…It's fine. I guess."

"Are you sure?" Kushina suddenly pounded her fists menacingly, fire burning in her eyes. "I'll beat up anyone who tries to bully you, alright!"

Yuka and Shou passed by the exact moment Kushina whirled around, nearly face-to-fist with the redhead's fiery declaration. They recoiled and shuffled back into classroom, nearly tripping over themselves.

Rika giggled. "Thanks, Kushina-nee. I appreciate it."

"Of course! You are the cutest imouto in the world!" Kushina pulled the blonde into her chest with a squeal. "I'll pummel your bullies to the ground-ttebane!"

Face hidden in Kushina's chest, Rika laughed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed like this, and she found it ironic that it was at that moment she felt the least suffocated that day.

"I'm glad you're back, nee-san."

"Mm. Well, who's teaching you?"

"Erm. Machida-sensei?"

The older kunoichi's head tilted to the side for a moment, and then her expression soured. "Ah. _That_ Machida?"

Rika nodded hesitantly. "Do you know him?"

Kushina didn't meet her gaze. "Well, good luck. You'll do great, Rika-chan!" Kushina assured her with a head pat as she bid goodbye. Breaktime was over. "I'm sure Minato will come home soon. He would have _hated_ to miss your first day and I'm gonna rub it in his face that _I_ was here…" Rika sweatdropped as she watched Kushina disappear from the corridor, evil laughter echoing from the academy walls.

She cleared her mind with a shake of her head and took a deep breath before heading back to the classroom.

* * *

Despite the discomfort of being thrust into the senior class, learning came naturally to Rika. She didn't dwell on the fact that most of the teachers overlooked her – she gladly used it to her advantage. She stayed quiet for the most part, soaking up all the information like a sentient sponge from the sidelines of the classroom, making mental notes and conditioning herself for what would be expected of her after the introductory weeks. Her chuunin teacher (whose full name was Yamanaka Machida, as she learned later on) often had his hands full between getting her classmates to listen, focus, or settle down. Kids were bad. Bored kids were worse. But bored kids with access to kunai and ninjutsu? Apocalyptic.

Like any other civilian-born student, she kept her face as blank as she could when the snobbier of her peers made a passing comment about her. Whether it was about her being too young or too out of place, it was easy to ignore them. Really. She'd seen the most of them show off their jutsu range during breaktime, which usually consisted of body replacement techniques, transformation techniques, or, more impressively, affinity-based and clan-based techniques. It was mostly the clan kids who she had to keep an eye out for (the pesky Uchiha Daisuke seated behind her loved singeing the tips of her hair when she wasn't paying full attention), but Izumi – bless her sweet cinnamon heart – was quick to speak up in defense of her when she could.

Rika couldn't really put a finger on it, but her newfound friend was acting quite weird. Sometime during the day they'd been introduced, Izumi's regard of her had changed into a look of… awe, maybe? She wasn't sure. She had decided not to dwell too much on any of her peers for the first few weeks of school (broody seatmate included). She had a lot on her mind, and a huge curriculum setback to catch up on.

The village librarian knew her name and usual book section by the fifth day of school. Rika even took to closing the library with her some days of the week. It may have been the Namikaze genes – her appreciation for the theoreticals went beyond book pages and translated into a natural hand for the arts and calligraphy, which translated well for her fuuinjutsu endeavors.

And yet, ninjutsu remained her weakest point. Why couldn't everything be as easy as making seals and mixing chemicals? At best, Rika could pour her chakra into seals, stick leaves onto her forehead, or even line the surfaces of her skin with chakra no problem. Much difficulty lied in drawn out practice – consistently scaling trees, crossing rivers, maintaining henge no jutsu for longer periods...

She _really_ didn't want to get beat down into the dirt when practical classes came, so she'd gone to Kushina for tips come the first weekend of school. And while the redhead was proficient in ninjutsu, her method for explanation was downright inexplicable.

"You breathe in _phoom_ , and the chakra inside you starts going _woosh!_ Wait a few seconds, clench your teeth, then it'll go _kabam!_ " Kushina made wide, gesturing motions into the air, body swaying as she went. She turned back to the blonde with an expectant grin. "Get it?"

...What?

Rika stared at her blankly.

This was the same kunoichi that Minato claimed to be formidable in the battlefield… right?

Kushina sighed. "Well, that's how I do my Wind Release. I'm really not the teaching type-dattebane." Her shoulders slumped forward. "Want me to spar with you instead?"

Rika perked up. She wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. "Hai!"

To their surprise, Rika's consistent training and chakra practice had paid off – way more than they expected it to. It was easy to reinforce her strikes with thinly veiled chakra, and Kushina had admitted that the speed of her attacks was becoming something dangerous.

"Does Minato have you running on weights or what?" Kushina asked breathily as she hopped away.

Rika pulled her fist back and shook her head sheepishly. "No weights, nee-san." But she often pretended she was shadow-sparring her brother to liven up her kata practice. His speed was something she couldn't get out of her head no matter how hard she tried, even in his year-long absence. It only excited her to think that she could match him on fair taijutsu ground someday.

With that, Kushina assured her that she would survive taijutsu classes, but she still needed to develop her stamina and defense. Not to mention most culmination spars at the academy called for the use of a student's entire jutsu repertoire, including ninjutsu and genjutsu, so she wouldn't be able to win a stand off with a Hyuuga, nor a showdown with an Uchiha – she had no other choice but to get better, or at the very least, creative.

"If you need some tenketsu points unblocked in the future," Kushina sing-songed as she waved goodbye. "Come find me at the jounin rest station."

Rika made a face. Machida-sensei had a point – at her current level, she _really_ didn't want to get matched up with a Hyuuga.

* * *

At the third week of attending the academy, Machida-sensei's true aptitude had come to light. He was usually laid back, and the most he'd gotten riled up was when Inuzuka Hana started a fight with some Hyuuga and he'd had to come back early from his lunch break. Rika was pretty sure the man had jotted down each and every transgression the class had done against him when the time came to finally have desensitization classes.

"The main problem with fresh genin is that they freeze in the field. If you freeze, even just for a split moment, you die." Machida drawled languidly, a slow, evil grin etching itself onto his face. The entire class swallowed audibly. "And if you die, you waste _all_ the damn years I spent teaching you muttonheads. So." He clapped his hands together sharply, and the collective group of children flinched. "It's genjutsu time."

The hair on Rika's nape and arms rose as soon as the thickness in the air started to change. The temperature dropped, like the lighting in the world had dimmed with the seeping of killing intent into the air, and she pulled her arms back to brace herself in a shudder.

"Remember, kids: use your brains. _Move._ " Had Machida-sensei always looked psychotic? "And for the love of god, don't freeze. I'll kill you if you do."

* * *

Izumi hates desensitization classes. At first, the genjutsu makes you think you're somewhere safe. And then someone jumps out to hurt you. Sometimes it's someone you know. Other times you'll find yourself somewhere different, somewhere foreign. But every single time, a voice in your mind shouts over and over and over again – _move **move** move **move** – _and when you finally do, _–_ _kill **kill** kill **kill**_ – until it's satisfied, and you're left pale-faced and bloodless on the edge of your seat, heart pounding, nearly squeezing out of your chest. It's an intense experience that leaves your muscles raging in desperation once the illusion breaks off.

The day of their first desensitization class precedes the first night Izumi starts having nightmares. She wakes in cold sweat and rattling teeth. On both accounts, she's quick to tell herself none of it is real – but that was the whole point of the experience, wasn't it? To get the feel of killing. Of surviving. To accept that all the hours she dedicated to mastering deadly jutsu and honing viper-quick strikes weren't just for show. The blood splattered on her arms, across her clothes… The crunching sound of bones and flesh as she broke and tore through them… Those were illusions for now. And yet for some unfathomable reason, the guilt weighing down her heart, the screaming in her dreams, the smell of burnt corpses, of haunting and glazed, lifeless eyes…

All of them felt so terribly real.

* * *

The time difference to recover is different for each kid, every time. Sometimes they're faster (rarely, really), most times they're worse. Machida doesn't feel the slightest bit pity while he watches them battle his mental illusions in their seats.

It's such a convenience, genjutsu. Couple it with specialized sensory techniques, he's simulated the terror of the field. He can assess his students' mental statuses and weaknesses and solidify their killing capacity, all the while educating them firsthand about the ninja art technique. No matter what the parents believe, it's better to start this in the classroom. He's had less students come back stuffed in storage scrolls since he's done this.

But there's something different with this class. In particular, he's never had a genin break out of his genjutsu. He's not as good as the sitting Yamanaka head, but he likes to think his illusions are worth more than a clap. And yet Uchiha Itachi had dispelled his illusion after a mere twenty seconds during the first session, then around less for the succeeding. The same kid that perfected all his examinations and technique demonstrations thus far.

Machida's had clan heirs in his classes before, but this one is cut above the rest. Better. Quicker. Deadlier. The boy's mind works in a way where there's no room for compromise, and if the objective is to kill then his abilities confidently follow through _–_ no hesitation in sight.

Pending assessment, he will recommend Uchiha Itachi for an early graduation. The way things are going, there's nothing else the academy can teach him after two months.

But there's another thing. A curious thing.

The kid sitting next to Uchiha Itachi is different, too. While he's never had an academy student break out of his special technique in no less than twenty seconds before, he's never met the instance where nothing happens, either.

The blonde toddler looked around the classroom, noted the shut-eyed, petrified expressions of her peers as they lost themselves in the genjutsu with apparent wariness, before she turned back to look at him, skeptic.

She sounded nervous. "Sensei? Did we start already?"

He sent her a smile and hoped she wouldn't notice his disgruntlement. He spared a quick glance at the class list. _Namikaze_.

Machida hadn't known what to do.

* * *

When taijutsu lessons came, Rika was relieved to find that the class wouldn't be pitted against each other right off the bat (probably because the teachers learned that it only resulted in kids lunging in headfirst into scuffles and concussions). Before that, everyone was taught the village's traditional kata together. When their physical condition was deemed satisfactory by the instructor, they would progress to sparring, where offensive attacks were practiced with the supervising teacher, followed by corrections on the student's form, stance, or chakra usage. Haphazard fists were gradually coached into precise strikes over time.

Although there were kids that excelled in the dojo due to home training (Hyuuga juuken strikes were positively horrible, Rika confirmed), all of them were still students, lacking proficiency in one aspect or another. Not everyone could perform successive ninjutsu, and chakra exhaustion was a common issue they'd have to outgrow with consistent training outside of class. They were reminded to actually use their lessons when in combat – go for the neck, the joints, the eyes… detrimental parts that were soft and easy to slice. Assess the strength and the skillset of the opponent. _Think._

"You'll notice that I've allowed some of you to start sparring against each other unsupervised," Machida said tentatively, throwing a pointed look at Uchiha Daisuke and Hyuuga Irido faced off at the far side of the dojo floor. Machida had given them the go signal under the promise they'd stick with non-lethal taijutsu and that they would be the ones to repair anything they broke. "Observe them. Why do you think Daisuke isn't directly engaging when he's good at taijutsu?"

"Because he's up against Irido, sensei. No matter how good he thinks he is in hand-to-hand, Hyuuga are even better so he might just get flipped onto his ass." Yuka answered flippantly.

Machida gave her a hard stare. "That's your assessment?"

The laidback smirk on Yuka's face was wiped away when she recognized the disappointed tone in her teacher's reply.

"Remember: I'll only allow any of you to start sparring if I think you've met the physique for it. And even then, it doesn't guarantee you'll be a good match." He looked over his audience with a dry look. "Come on, kids. Think. Why is he hesitating? He had the moves down in practice, didn't he? He has the skills to pull it off." His gaze settled on the smaller kid observing at the front. "Itachi. Why do you think?"

Without missing a beat, the black-haired prodigy replied, "He's nervous."

Machida nodded. "Exactly. Notice the shake in his feet. His stance is not as firm as usual. He's missing openings by overthinking. He's pulling punches. Watch."

The class looked closer at the on-going match then, more enraptured as they noticed the small details that proved that Daisuke was, in fact, hesitant when pitted against someone he couldn't read or predict. Hyuugas were generally unfazeable, and their cool-headed temperament worked in their favor in close combat.

"Taijutsu is never just physical. It has just as much to do with your mind. Build confidence in the fact you've been training each day to hone your muscle for it. Don't hesitate. And most of all—"

Hyuuga Irido found an opening to their seemingly unending circle off and pounced directly at an opening near the Uchiha's shoulder. He followed it with relentless strikes to different points of Daisuke's upper body. Mere seconds after, Irido stepped away coolly and smirked at his opponent. _Spar over._ Daisuke's whole arm hung uselessly at his right side, a scowl plastered on his face.

"—Don't get comfortable."

They looked on as Irido offered to unblock Daisuke's tenketsu points, to which the latter glumly agreed.

"Next spar, I'll be waiting to counter the grapple execution you'd demonstrated with sensei before. It's something not even my cousins can copy, you know." Irido told him, amicable, as he expertly released Daichi's chakra points.

A smile broke out on Daisuke's face as he took Irido's offered hand.

"You bet!"

* * *

" _Tadaima_."

After changing into his house slippers, Itachi headed quietly to the kitchens to greet his mother. Despite his light footing, Mikoto seemed to know the exact moment he made it through the threshold. She had paused and turned away from the stove instantly, soup ladle on her lips.

"Itachi, _okaeri_. Your father's waiting for you at the courtyard."

The toddler released a heavy breath and nodded once. That meant he was training until midnight today, too.

He paused from leaving when his mother went on to say, "I know your father's been training you to the bone lately, Itachi-kun, so if you need a break just say so. I can handle him, you know?" Itachi blinked in surprise – that was new. He quirked a smile at his mother making a show of flexing her arms, then pretending to hold the kitchen knives like kunai. "Your mama may have hung up her jounin vest, but she can still throw hands, mm-hm?"

Trying hard to keep his face stoic, Itachi responded, "I am fine, kaa-san. School is not difficult, and training makes me stronger."

"Well, yes, but…" Mikoto sighed, putting the knives down. "I just worry about you. I see your cousins playing and running around and I wonder if maybe you'd like that, too." Itachi shook his head quickly in wide-eyed panic. His mother snorted. "I'm not going to force you to spend time with them. I'm just thinking… maybe you want to take a break, that's all. Between training, school, your chores at home…" _I never really see you with friends, Itachi-kun._ "I just want you to know I'm here for you if you need me – for anything at all."

"…"

Mikoto rolled her eyes. "You're not in trouble, Itachi. I'm just saying it so you know. Run along then."

* * *

Itachi knows he's not like the kids his age. He's not like his cousins either, nor his peers, not even like the clan elders when they were younger. Even amongst the "gifted" ones in his generation, he was an outlier. They didn't think like him. They didn't have obligations like him. To Itachi, there was only a small group of people noteworthy enough to be kept track of (nine people, if he included Shisui and the hokage), but the rest of the villagers were positively mundane.

So he doesn't mind the pressure. The countless pairs of eyes scrutinizing his every accomplishment? They keep him busy. And clan duties give him something think about from day to day. Otherwise, what else was he supposed to do while he waited for people to catch up to him?

 _"_ _Katon: Goukakyuu no Jutsu!"_

Itachi executes a fireball technique in one go and his father's jaw drops. Surveying the scorched grass field, Itachi knows he's not like the others… but so what? It wasn't like he could help it. Greatness was essentially his bloodright. So. Until Konoha called for him, he was perfectly fine keeping his peace at the sidelines. People could test him, belittle him, or revere him all they wanted and he wouldn't care. While they were busy looking up at him, he'd turn his gaze at himself and ask the only question that irked his mind constantly: what the hell was he doing any of this for?

In the end, he was just another well-bred soldier on the outside looking in.

* * *

By the end of her first month at the academy, Rika was sure her head would burst from the ridiculous amount of book charts and shinobi customs and E- and D-rank techniques that she had to cram into her brain. The upside to her obsessive studying was that she had finally kept up to the curriculum she missed by skipping some levels – Izumi was kind enough to lend her a few reference books on genin obligations in the battle front (espionage, support work, logistics) while they trained some days after class – so to be completely honest, Rika had been too preoccupied to even _think_ about Itachi.

Like him, she mostly kept to herself. She concentrated on lectures and obediently attended after-school kunoichi classes and visited the library whenever she had questions. Kushina was sure she'd pass out from overwork, but Rika had actually done it! She'd read everything she needed to in four weeks' time. She was going to take a well-deserved week off from any type of academic reading and focus on chakra exercises and conditioning her physique.

But then that same afternoon, on her way out of the academy premises after class, she'd heard voices and rustling coming from the secluded back-alley of the school. She didn't really know what else she expected to see, but given the tiresome attitude of some students, it wasn't any surprise for her to find a gang of older kids acting like bullies.

"Oy, oy, are you avoiding us?" One of them sneered.

Rika rose to the tips of her toes as she tried to see past the corridor wall. She recognized the black-haired Uchiha in an instant.

"You think you're too good for us, huh?" A scoff. "Let's teach him a lesson!"

"Sure, it's not like he can run to mommy and daddy, can he?" They jeered and circled around the single toddler in the clearing, cracking their knuckles. "Imagine the Uchiha heir running home crying. They'd disown him."

"Oya. Where do you think you're going? We're your seniors, you know."

"You Uchiha brats always act like you're so high and mighty." The big kid pounded a fist into an open palm. "Stop looking down on civilians like us!"

At that, Rika snapped.

* * *

"I didn't need your help."

Sprawled on the ground, Rika wiped the edge of her bloody mouth with the back of her hand. Her chest heaved up and down as she sat up and tried to catch her breath. Glowering at the heap of unconscious students whose injuries were a myriad of colors, too inflamed and swollen to be considered from sparring, she muttered to the boy next to her, "I know."

Itachi offered her a hand to help her off the ground and she took it, groaning and twisting in pain when her torso protested at the movement.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine."

"…"

She glared at him. "What?"

"Your left eye's starting to bruise."

"Really? Damn." Rika clicked her tongue. "Two of them got my hair and landed some hits on me." She'd retaliated by kicking her foot backwards into their crotches to get free, and once they were curled over themselves it wasn't difficult to charge and smash them into the floor. The blonde squinted at Itachi's face and told him, "You have a few cuts too. Will you get in trouble if you go home like that?"

"No," Itachi said quickly.

"Good." Rika squared her shoulders and dusted her hands. Bracing herself with a deep breath, she headed for the exit. "See ya."

"I didn't need your help," Itachi called out again as Rika ambled her way out of the ginnels. "I would have handled them."

"Look–" Rika winced as she faced him again. "I know you didn't need help. But just because you're from a clan, or better off, or some kind of prodigy – that doesn't make you not human. That doesn't give them the right." Rika wiped the speckles of blood on her cheek with the cowl of her jacket. "We're all Konoha shinobi here, aren't we?"

Staring at her silently, Itachi nodded.

"With allies like them, who needs enemies?" Rika shook her head disapprovingly and turned away to head home. "Itachi-kun, I helped you because that's what allies do." She waved to him without looking back. "Ja-ne."

Itachi watched as her figure slowly disappeared from view. With one last look at the pile of bodies on the earth, he headed for his usual route home with an unusual expression on his face.

"Allies, huh…"

Interesting.


	5. Academy Arc - 4: Small Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say there’s only one prodigy in every generation of Konoha shinobi. Too bad for Rika – it’s not her.

**Precision Tactics**

**Chapter Four**

“Watch out!”

Eyes widening, Kushina and Rika sprung apart at the last possible second. Rika’s arm shot out just as she evaded the rogue shuriken that whizzed past the sides of her face, shoving Izumi’s preoccupied form to the side in a haphazard attempt at protection. The parchment that Kushina had been demonstrating seals on had been cleanly sliced into useless strips, now fluttering in the cold blow of the wind… Gone.

“Shit! Sorry!”

Kushina watched the parchment drift away, straight-faced, then her gaze slanted dangerously at the black-haired boy advancing towards their group, jogging to their area at far side of the training grounds with a hard wince pasted on his features. He wore a navy-blue cowl-neck shirt and exercise capris, a jounin band tied around his head.

“Uchiha Shisui. Training Ground Sixteen is about as large as your clan courtyard. I’d hate to think you directed your weapons at us on purpose,” Kushina bit out, her left brow ticking in annoyance.

Shisui cringed, scratching the back of his neck when he reached them, then inclining himself to a deep bow, “Apologies, Uzumaki-san. I was trying a long-distance weapon substitution technique. The gale redirected the trajectory…”

Kushina huffed. “Yeah, yeah…”

“Very impressive,” Rika said dryly. “Had you not nearly injured Izumi, who was in the middle of focusing her chakra into ink.” The blonde pointed to the spilt residue of chakra ink on the ground, now seeping into the soil. “You also destroyed the first working seal she made all afternoon.” Kushina huffed again.

 _Yikes!_ “I am so, _so_ sorry—” Shisui clapped his hands together and turned to bow again, this time to the kunoichi he had wronged but paused in surprise when he recognized her. “Ah. Izumi-chan?”

“Shisui-nii,” Izumi confirmed as she hung her head back with a sigh. Exhausted anyway, the female Uchiha fell backwards to lay on the grass. “It’s fine. I was just trying my hand at scroll techniques.”

“Let me get you another—”

“—no, no, I’m done.” Izumi waved a hand across her face, gloomy. “Pretty sure I would have bombed it again.”

“I-If you say so…”

Kushina clicked her tongue and sprawled on the field with a jaded harrumph. The hours she’d spent that morning, coaching the Uchiha about chakra control and calligraphy – wasted.

Rika’s head turned at the sound of nearing steps, her brows rising when she registered Itachi’s arrival. She dusted her trousers as she stood to greet him. She left Kushina and Izumi from where they rested and met her classmate at some paces away.

“I apologize if my cousin disturbed your training,” Itachi muttered under his breath. “We were at the opposite training grounds.”

Rika shrugged, throwing a backwards glance at Shisui, who now seemed to be less guilt-stricken and more interested at Itachi’s presence as he walked to them.

“Sorry to give a bad impression. I’m Uchiha Shisui. I promise I’m more reliable in missions, um…”

“I don’t doubt it, Shisui-san.” Rika replied amicably. “Please, call me Rika. I’m in the same class as Itachi-kun.”

Two weeks since she jumped to his aid in the bully pit, Rika and Itachi transitioned into a quiet, comfortable working dynamic in the classroom. They’d agreed to be sparring partners during taijutsu sessions, while Izumi substituted for her during ninjutsu days, and honestly even though she found herself flat on the floor most of the time when pitted against Itachi, Rika found that his relentless attitude as a partner simply prompted her to be better.

And she did get better. If she was barely satisfied with her taijutsu before, now she was confident. Sparring daily with Itachi _hurt_ , but nothing really developed instinct better than ducking away from skin-scalding fire jutsu and merciless, pin-point, Sharingan strikes. Those never missed when they found an opening. Twice, Rika had even surprised him by catching his attack by the wrist and twisting it to his back. Twice! She _was_ catching up to him, even in small steps.

Machida-sensei had commended their ‘genin spirit’ at some point and even initiated placing them against older Hyuuga as competition, to which Rika held her own. As expected, Itachi’s performance was exceptional, putting to shame all the rumors about him being too sheltered by the sparring teachers. Izumi still needed to develop her physique, the teachers said, but as she cheered from the sidelines, it was obvious that the brunette was truly proud and happy for them.

Unlike Itachi, Rika and Izumi weren’t so… perfect. While the Namikaze had better speed, strength, and chakra control compared to the girl, borne from consistent training and physical conditioning, Izumi had better range. Undeniably. Ninjutsu, genjutsu… these things defined power just as much in the field, after all. Against those techniques, Rika’s contraband tools and sealing scrolls were matched to how well she could use the element of surprise. Considering she didn’t want to blow up the academy halls with her bombs, she often used the opportunity to manipulate her weapons arsenal instead.

After classes, she and Izumi bent over theory books and Kunoichi class handouts, occasionally giving each other tips on how to develop their target aims, chakra control, or ninjutsu release – whichever they had enough stamina to deal with. Sometimes they stopped by the market district and shared street food with Itachi when they could find him, but if not, they’d dally until the day was well-spent.

Oftentimes Rika wondered if Itachi put up with her and Izumi for the cordial sake of appearance, but as Shisui brightened at the mention of her name, it seemed not.

“You mean you’re _the_ Rika?”

The Namikaze didn’t miss the exasperated look Itachi sent his cousin’s way. Rika snorted. “ _The_ Rika?”

“We all know this kid over here’s a bit precocious,” Shisui seemed to be enjoying the growing annoyance on Itachi’s face, “And I train with him mostly because his peers can’t keep up. But lately he’s dropped some hints that someone in his class is, by his standards, somewhat acceptable—”

Rika’s loud laughter rung out just as Itachi aimed a leg swipe at his companion to get him to shut up. Shisui avoided the back of Itachi’s sandals by an inch, hastily jumping back with a yelp and a barking laugh. With Itachi’s agitated demeanor, their sequence seamlessly transitioned into a clashing spar, with the younger Uchiha determined to attack while Shisui defended. Rika watched them for a few minutes, impressed by their striking speed and agile forms, before following them as they moved deeper into the center of the clearing.

“Can I join?” The blonde piped up, unsure. “If it’s okay.”

Itachi paused, sharing a look with his cousin. Shisui turned to her with a grin. “If you can keep up, sure.”

That’s when Rika and Itachi shared their own look. A smirk pulled at Rika’s mouth. “Team up?”

Itachi nodded, eyes darkening as he affixed his glare onto the older Uchiha.

A nervous chuckle. “Hey now…”

“Considering he’s a jounin and we’re just genin…” Rika hummed shortly, strapping her bomb tags and scrolls pouches securely on her thigh holster. “I think this is just fair game.”

Itachi rolled his shoulders, brandishing a matte black kunai in one fist. “Agreed.”

Shisui backed away two paces, palms out as he tried to delay, “Wait, wait! No weapo— _ack!”_ Another yap. “Watch the _hair!_ "

* * *

Collapsing onto the grass, Rika pushed the golden, sweat-damp strands of her hair away from her face. “That was great,” she said breathlessly. “Shisui-san, you’re surprisingly fast!”

From where he sat on the ground, arms and legs bound in thick, capturing rope, Shisui replied wryly, “Apparently, not fast enough.”

Itachi snorted. The blonde’s improvised bomb-traps were certainly convenient – rounding his nimble-footed cousin into the area that had been littered with them was half the work, but it ultimately led to their intended victory anyway. Not to mention both he and Rika had some familiarity with working in tandem, making the whole spar a near-effortless trapping session in disguise. Of course, Shisui hadn’t responded with serious use of force, but Itachi already knew he wouldn’t – not after his cousin had interrupted her group’s lecture on seals prior.

Not all victories had to be hard won.

Itachi told the blonde, “You could keep your hair tied to prevent it from getting in the way.”

Rika thought about it. “You’re right.” She paused, considering which plaited style would be best for combat and the length her hair. It was well past her chest now. “I’ll look for a tie later.” When Itachi looked like he wanted to say something else, Rika raised a brow at him, “What?”

“Earlier, when you were trying to cast a ninjutsu…” Itachi hesitated. “Your chakra flared into smoke.”

He’d _seen_ that? She even hid behind a tree before trying it! Rika reddened. “Ninjutsu’s my weakest right now,” she admitted. “It’s not the pathway or the theory I’m lacking. For some reason it just – fizzes. It’s why I keep my elemental techniques in scrolls. Maybe I’ll grow out of it,” she ended lamely.

But Itachi pressed on. “It was… odd.” Not really knowing how other way to say it, he caught Shisui’s eye before muttering, “You should get your chakra points looked over.”

Rika bolted up at that. “By a doctor?” Shisui nodded slowly. “Why?”

“The Sharingan sees how chakra is translated into technique. Essentially, that’s how it copies ninjutsu,” Shisui explained with an uncomfortable squirm from where he was bound, “But the way your chakra works… it’s different.” Itachi nodded along.

“What do you mean, different?”

Itachi stared at her, blank for a second, and then his irises spun into vibrant, crimson swirls of red. Rika startled, nearly bolting at the sight of the Sharingan’s singular spinning tomoe, but the boy pinned her in place with a pointed look.

Swallowing thickly, Rika took a deep breath before clapping her hands together to attempt a water technique. Crystalline blue liquid pooled in her palms and threatened to spill, until suddenly, it bubbled and steamed into thermal smoke, dissipating into the air with a low hiss. Rika cringed. _Fizz again._

Itachi made a show of copying the exact hand signs and chakra input combination that Rika had exerted, only for him to yield a simple, successful water technique.

“Different.” Itachi repeated. “Odd.”

“Is—” Rika cut herself off. _Is something wrong with me?_ She’d nearly asked.

Because of course there was!

Schooling her features into a faux bizarre expression, Rika pushed from the ground and thanked her sparmates for the two hour-long stint. Her energy drained, she ambled back to where Kushina and Izumi lingered in the neighboring training grounds, dropping down next to her soon enough sister-in-law with a huff.

“Kushina-nee.” She nudged the redhead with her elbow. “Do you have time to come over tonight?”

“Hmm?” The woman sounded groggy. “I think I should be free-dattebane.”

Rika’s voice was barely above a whisper, “I need to ask you something about... my chakra?” She didn’t miss the stiffness in the jounin’s shoulders as she spoke. “Itachi-kun said I should get it looked at. Can you do it?”

Kushina hummed. “Is that so.” The woman rose from her stance and stretched, “Well, that’s it for today. Shall we drop Izumi off before going to yours?”

“Uzumaki-san, you don’t have to!” Izumi’s face pinked as she scrambled up. “Lending me your time today is more than enough.”

“If you say so,” Kushina sing-songed as she went. “Come on then, Rika.”

“See you, Izumi!”

“Yeah! See you!”

* * *

“There are other seals on me, aren’t there?” Rika hinged.

Kushina sighed, placing their dinner dishes away then wiping her hands with a rag. Counting to ten in her head, “Yes, there are.”

“Can you remove them?”

Kushina groaned. “Maybe. Probably.” Yes she could. “But it could be dangerous. You need to think about why Minato thought it best to put them in the first place-ttebane.” The redhead continued, softer this time, “Your seal wasn’t even stable enough at first. Your system responded so differently to various jutsu when you just started out, remember? Learning hand seals… Attempting ninjutsu… you own chakra bruised you. Signing genjutsu had you collapsed for _days._ We have to play it safe.”

“But we understand my seal so much better than before, nee-san! And yes, my body couldn’t handle it before. But my control is much, _much_ better than it was two years ago.” Rika insisted. “I’ve trained hard according to the regimen nii-san left himself. Physically… mentally… chakra-wise. I can move past the basics now.” Rika held the redhead’s gaze, determined. “You _know_ I should.”

Kushina groaned again, walking briskly into the living room. “I don’t know anything!”

Rika pitter-pattered after her.

The Uzumaki knew better than to dwell long in Rika’s puppy-eyed look. Hell, even _Minato_ _himself_ couldn’t resist it. That said, it was twenty times worse on _her_ , because the cerulean blue tint of the youngest Namikaze’s eyes not only filled her with intense pity, but also reminded her of _him!_

Damn that man…

Kushina gritted her teeth together, the final tethers of her self-control snapping as Rika unveiled her secret weapon: sticking her lower lip out in an irresistible, undeniable pout as she peered through dark lashes, whispering up to her in the cutest imouto voice, “…Please, nee-san?”

_Grrrr! Damn it, Minato! You better come home soon!_

“Fine,” she finally relented, deflating. Her mouth dipped into a stern frown. “But you have to tell me if anything happens. _Anything_ _at all_. Stomach pains, lightheadedness, bruising, collapse… if it’s too much, too early, and we need to put it back – you _need_ to tell me.” Kushina stressed. “ _Rika-chan_. Promise me.”

The blonde was all too happy to comply, bobbing her head excitedly. “Yes, yes! I promise!” Her glee practically seeped into the air as she pranced around the living room, “I can’t wait to do ninjutsu!” She was going to put some Hyuugas flat on their asses, she was…

“Ugh. Fine. Whatever.” Kushina wiped a hand over her face, feeling unbelievably tired. _Damn Namikaze genes…_ “Go to sleep. We’ll remove some tomorrow morning-dattebane.”

* * *

After some damper seals were removed from her chakra pathway, Rika’s class performance improved remarkably. And she was right – unlike the years prior to her schooling, her body _was_ ready for advanced techniques this time around. Kushina had supervised her for the first few days, but even the jounin ascertained that the young Namikaze’s gradually-cultivated chakra control and academic grasp of the shinobi arts didn’t need to be doubted. She could do various elemental ninjutsu and basic genjutsu no problem. No chakra strain, no physical recoil… Rika was – dare she think it herself – _strong_. Not overtly, but adequately enough to deem herself a well-rounded kunoichi that would survive and not be a burden in the playing field. She wondered what else there was left for her to learn in school.

Machida-sensei had even said it himself, by the end of that week. At the rate both she and Itachi were progressing, they would have to take another assessment exam very soon. Every aspect Itachi had superior to her, she compensated with roundabout tactics and makeshift munitions. Nobody lasted long against them in sparring lessons now, but against each other, well… what could she really do against the Sharingan’s illusions? Despite that, she’d never let Itachi off without nearly draining his own reserve first – _that_ much she was worth, and even the boy himself knew it. Itachi may not have appeared surprised by the news when the teacher pulled them to the side to say so, but Rika was. Her sensei’s words meant that she was another step closer to advancing her plan. All the cold days she’d spent soaked in the river, falling from trees, reading books cover to cover until the sun fell… Not once losing concentration… Scalded hands, sore limbs… Bruised knees, cut arms, bloody cheeks…

All of that had been for Minato, after all.

For all that he’d done for her.

“Thank you, sensei.” Itachi inclined to a bow and she followed suit. “For all that you taught us.”

The following day marked the end of their first month as genin. On his way out of the academy premises, Itachi spotted his mother waiting for him by the gates. He hadn’t been expecting her there at all, so he approached her warily. At her affectionate greeting, he realized that perhaps she hadn’t come bearing bad news at all. She simply had the free time and wanted to pick him up from class.

Huh.

“Oh, Itachi-kun,” Mikoto snickered at the look on his face. “Let me do this, at least. I’m your mother, sometimes I’m allowed to, you know?”

“I didn’t say anything…”

“You didn’t have to.” She sniffed, then her eyes livened. “Ah! Namikaze-san. You’re picking up someone, too?”

Itachi’s skin nearly crawled with shivers as his eyes went wide. He hadn’t sensed the man approach _at all_.

A cool voice spoke from behind him, “Ah, yes, Uchiha-san, my sister—”

A lightning quick blur passed by, startling both Itachi and Mikoto. _Fast!_ Mikoto thought. It had been Rika, launching herself straight into Minato’s figure as soon as she noted the color of his hair from a short distance. The onslaught of her embrace knocked the yellow-haired jounin out of balance, but Minato saved his step and twirled her in the air instead.

“Nii-sama!” Rika’s face was beautiful, smiling wide in absolute bliss. Itachi blinked twice. Had she always looked that way? “You’re back! You’re back! I’m so happy! Minato-nii!”

Eventually, Rika’s brother set her down on the ground and coaxed her to calm down. In his endeavor, the jounin notices Rika’s jacket and Itachi can see him visibly _swoon_.

When Minato finally remembered where they were, “This is my sister, Rika.” He put an unnecessary hand on top of Rika’s head to force her into a bow, which she swatted away with a halfhearted scowl.

The Uchiha matriarch smiled cordially, a portrait of loveliness. “I’m Uchiha Mikoto, Itachi’s mother. Itachi tells me you were also promoted. Congratulations.”

Itachi shot his mother a quick glance. How sly… He hadn’t told her anything.

“Nice to meet you, Mikoto-sama.” Rika grinned. “Yes, I’m Itachi-kun’s classmate. And, um… thank you.”

Mikoto noted the tight, insistent grip the blonde had on her brother’s hand, and the growing impatience Rika was displaying unintentionally by tapping her foot on the ground.

“Well, don’t let us keep you. I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

“You bet!” Rika beamed at her brother and proceeded to pull him away. As Minato’s chuckle faded into the distance, Mikoto ushered Itachi to the opposite direction, and they made their way to the clan compound.

The remaining academy genin and their guardians look on. Squinting from one side, Yuka asks her mom why people were gawking at Rika’s brother. Itachi and Mikoto-sama she’d understand… But the civilian brat’s family?

Uchiha Kiyoko divulged in a hushed murmur, “Yuka-chan, that’s Namikaze Minato… they say he’s one of the forefront contenders to become the next hokage…”

“Wh… Wh…” Yuka’s jaw dropped. “ _What!”_

* * *

Rika doesn’t think there’s enough air in her lungs to tell her brother everything. Her progress at the academy, her daily schedule, her questions, how her seal and regimen were doing fine and Kushina had ensured it every day she came over to check (but even then Minato pressed that he would look over it himself)… She tells him of how she had become notorious amongst her class, the genin teaching faculty, _and_ the residential district because of her contraband tags and makeshift bombs and they had to stop at a corner because he’d practically laughed himself hoarse. As they ate katsu curry for dinner (and Rika nearly wept with joy at the sight of her brother’s specialty dish), Rika tells him about the bullies and the advanced curriculum and assures him that she has it handled. That Itachi and Izumi were her closest friends, and although they were Uchihas – clan kids – they were great peers and motivated her to study. She showed him the secret pockets she’d sewn into his old jacket, the shelves she had re-alphabetized in his absence, her experimental notes, and even the stacked piles of their exchanged correspondences through the two years he had been off to war.

“I just – can’t believe you’re home.” Rika stared at him again, almost in disbelief. “I really, really missed you, Minato-nii.”

Minato smiles and tells her about his team. He tells her about the wild squirrels that shrewdly tried to invade the camp’s food supplies night after night, the sights and sceneries he’d seen while travelling the nations. Interesting sigils and seals that he’d found in the field, toned-down war stories (she’d rolled his eyes and scoffed at him for bothering) and how he’d been worried sick, down to his stomach when she’d written that she’d started making _bombs_ , of all possible things, from his hidden stack of reference materials, no less. He’d rushed over how Rin and Kakashi and Obito were the best and worst team a jounin teacher could ever hope for, as their combined brilliance was unique and a complete menace in the battlefield and how Minato spent the daybreak hoping they hadn’t brought down a different nation by accident and started a different war.

“And I’m so proud of you, Rika, of how far you’ve come.” Minato concluded his speech with, “And I really, truly missed you, too. I’m lucky to be home.”

Before the waterworks can start, Rika ushers him off to rest – surely he was tired and craved a soak in the bathing tub – and reminded him that they had to rise very early the next day for an appraisal spar, given that he’d scheduled a meeting with his own team for the late morning.

“Who knows,” Rika taunted with a smirk. “I might be good enough to steal your special kunai now.”

Minato had looked completely horrified that she lost herself in half-snorting, half-hooting giggles. “Nii-san, your _face!”_

Before she could go, “Wait. I have something for you.” Minato fished out a small box from the inner pocket of his vest. Inside it laid a blue, crudely cut gemstone necklace. He gave a nostalgic sort of smile, “It was mom’s.” Rika’s eyes widened. “She’d sold it before, when I was still genin, to a travelling merchant, when we still needed more funds so I could study at the academy.” He placed it in the center of her palm delicately. “I chanced by the same merchant at the Land of Rivers last year.”

He proceeded to unveil a scroll from his holster and released its seal to hand her a bigger box, containing bottles and bottles of chakra ink, blank sealing scrolls, and brand-new sets of high-grade kunai and shuriken.

“I was gone for a long time. I know it’s late, two years late, but…” Minato murmured solemnly. “Happy birthday, Rika.”

Lips wobbling, Rika launched at her brother again and burrowed her face into his chest as her tears broke free.

Minato’s heavy embrace comforted her. This day was real. _He_ was real. Home. Safe.

Alive.

“I wasn’t sad all the time, but… there were times the silence was too much.” Rika forced her sobs into sniffles. “And really, you had to give this last for what? The impact? You’re so exhausting,” Minato snickered at her. “I should really turn in early, nii-san. We’re off early tomorrow. Good night.”

Before she could go, Minato caught her by the wrist again.

She paused. “What?”

Minato’s gaze was _very_ unimpressed. He held a palm out expectantly. “Don’t think I can’t smell the salted black powder mixture, Rika. I told you no experimenting at home.”

Rika cursed, reluctantly surrendering the raw contraband concoction she’d hidden in her back pocket. “Dang it.”

* * *

When Kakashi slides the door to his house open, there’s a stark, shocking difference to the place that the sight hits him squarely like an iron fist. He blinks and blinks and blinks, pinches himself twice, but really – he’s _not_ dreaming.

The lights inside were all open, the enticing smell of cooked food coming from the kitchen, clean, polished floors – and now that he’s noticed it, the outdoor garden had been tended to as well.

He walked further into the house and froze.

Sakumo was in one of the spare rooms – _exercising._ Newly sharpened, gleaming weapons of assorted classes were laid out at the side, scrolls, pouches, bandages, and shinobi sparring attires neatly assembled into piles on the floor.

His father was _training_. Never mind that, his father was _lucid!_

Judging by the deepened cut-lines on the Hatake patriarch’s arms and muscular torso, it was evident that Sakumo had been for a while.

Kakashi sputtered in disbelief. “T-Tadaima!”

Sakumo paused mid-pull up, hanging upside down from the room ceiling by the chakra-lined soles of his feet. The aged man grinned at his son before flipping over to stand upright on the tatami-lined floors, soundless.

Kakashi gawped, not really finding it in himself to speak. Was this real life? Had he actually died on the way back to Konoha?

“Welcome back, Kakashi.” Sakumo patted the back of his own head, sheepish, “It’s… been a while. Look… I’ve been thinking about how I’d go about this, but…” Sakumo made his way to his son in the hallway, crouching to Kakashi’s level with a remorseful, imploring gaze, “I showed you such an uncool side of me for the past few years. Hell, I showed you,” his father said sadly. “Would you ever find it in yourself to—” Sakumo swallowed. “Forgive me?”

Kakashi shook his head, wide-eyed. The four years that had passed between them had firmly ignited his decision to prove himself _and_ the legacy of his father. “Tou-san… I only want you to take care of yourself,” Kakashi’s voice croaked. “You don’t need my forgiveness. Or anyone’s,” he managed to say.

“ _I_ should have taken care of _you._ And I will. Please, let me try again.” Sakumo pulled back a sob but couldn’t help the wayward tears that escaped from his eyes. “Kakashi, I’m so, so sorry…”

Marginally, Kakashi allows his disbelief to fade. How couldn’t he, when his father had reached out to embrace him, so close and firm that the cracks and fractures in his bones stitched back together at every second that passed, a forgotten warmth that he had missed since so, so long? The tide of their emotions evened out after a stretch of time, and Sakumo invites his son to the first dinner they’ve had together in years. While eating, Sakumo offers to start training Kakashi on days that he was free, _if_ Kakashi wanted, and Sakumo had to rescue him from the choke episode that promptly followed.

“T-Train me?” Kakashi’s head was whirling as his father patted his back, dislodging the food jammed in his throat. “You want to train me,” he rasped.

Sakumo smiled wryly. “I should have, long ago. Made you sign the ancestral scroll, passed on the legendary Hatake technique…”

“Ancestral scroll?” Kakashi parroted dumbly. Every second he had spent home made him feel more and more insane. “ _Legendary_ Hatake technique?”

“Oh yes, yes… Legendary indeed…”

“I… I want to learn! But…” Kakashi didn’t know what to say, until he remembered and his shoulders dropped. “I have training with my team tomorrow morning…”

Sakumo dismissed his worries with a wave of his hand. “I should meet with your sensei anyway.” Kakashi openly gawped at that. Gray eyes nearly bulged out their sockets as his father continued, “Do you know your sensei’s family well? He has a sister...”

Kakashi’s head was _reeling_. “I… Maybe… Who?” Kakashi took a sharp breath, “Who’s my sensei?”

Sakumo stared at his son, who seemed to actually be dissociating in his seat from the whiplash of events. Sakumo blinked once, twice at the dumbfounded look on Kakashi’s face, and then erupted into loud, genuine guffaws that bounced off the room walls. Sakumo smartly decided to cede his questions for the meantime, in consideration of his son’s current state, the ghost of a smile not really leaving his face.

As they continued to eat dinner in silence, Kakashi’s gaze focused and trailed to the rest of the living space. He noted the dirtless surfaces, the polished state of his mother’s butsudan. Her jar and picture frame nearly glimmered under the panels of moonlight that filtered through the windows, with golden yellow chrysanthemums adorning the commemoration space from a crystal vase placed at one side. His attention swept over the rest of the house which had been tidied well, before returning to the mirth-laced face of his father across him.

Happy. At peace.

The bleak memory of darkness, dust, and wilted flowers were almost a world away in his mind.

What the hell had happened while he was away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very fluff, much wao. You bet I'm taking you on another emotions roller coaster when I update *smirk*  
> As some of you may know by now, I'm a bit unhinged and work on five different stories from three different fandoms simultaneously, not to mention my own original works occupy my brain some weekends, so fic updates come sporadically or whenever hyperfixation strikes. Thank you to the readers who absolutely make my day with your comments - I'd churned all 4k words in one sitting for you. Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Academy Arc - 5: Terms of Contract

**Chapter Summary:** Trust and sincerity are two essential things – especially when making deals.

* * *

**Precision Tactics**

**Chapter Five**

“How is it possible—” Rika panted breathlessly, her chest rising in rapid puffs as she demanded, “—that you’ve gotten even _faster?_ It’s not natural! Your chakra’s _broken!_ ”

Minato grinned cheekily in response from where he lounged against a tree, unruffled. His grin widened when Rika attempted to push herself up from the grass, only to collapse right back with a fatigued groan.

“You’ve improved a lot, you know,” Minato amended, recognizing the growing frustration in his sister’s expression as she scowled at the skies. “In fact, I’m very impressed. There’s work to be done with your ninjutsu and genjutsu, but I understand you’re still adapting.”

“I’m trying my best,” Rika muttered. “With the little time I have.”

Minato sighed at that. “Rika, I keep telling you… You don’t have to do any of this. Let me protect _you_.”

The blonde turned to him with a cold glare. “I may not be as strong as you but it matters to _me_ that I’m fighting. For you. For Konoha,” she snapped. “You’re not the only one allowed to make sacrifices for what they want to protect.”

Minato said nothing, but his frown deepened as he held her gaze. Instead, he released another heavy sigh as he walked to where his sister laid to unpack the breakfast they had prepared before leaving for the training grounds.

The cool temperature of the fields dwindled gradually with the advent of the morning sun, rising higher in the distance. Daylight hadn’t even covered the entire field, but already Rika’s skin felt lit with the fever of waking. The blood in her veins hummed bitterly, placidly, a single second away from ignition or repose, she couldn’t really tell.

But then Minato offered her an onigiri. She took it.

In the silence of sunlight and fading dew, they began to eat.

 _I just want you to be safe._ Minato seemed to whisper in the quiet. _You’re my sister._

 _I know._ Rika didn’t look away, even for a second. _But I’m not helpless._

* * *

Surprisingly, Rin arrived an hour earlier than her teammates. A friendly smile broke out on the brunette’s face as she approached Minato and Rika, friendly as ever.

“Good morning, sensei! Rika-chan, hello! It’s been so long!”

Rin’s cheerful character was infectious. Upon recognizing the state of books and scrolls scattered on the ground, Rin congratulated Rika for placing into the academy. With considerable time to kill, Rin proceeded to join in on her sensei’s lecture and chimed in with her own advice on how to improve the releasing speed of wind techniques, given that she’d struggled with them for years prior to achieving chuunin. Eager to improve her proficiency with ninjutsu, Rika kept every piece of guidance seriously.

Rin watched in amazement as her sensei and his six-year-old sister moved on to other topics, then proceeded to contend over experimental sealing techniques – most terminology and sophisticated characters flying over her head without comprehension. When Minato brought out a pack of his notorious weapons – the Flying Thunder God Kunai – and proceeded to hand them over to his sister for inspection, Rin knew.

The Namikaze siblings were nerds.

Rika fawned over the three-pronged daggers, turning them on each side as she analyzed the engravings. “There aren’t a lot of chakra-absorbent devices, though bomb-tags and chakra-specific seals are popular choices amongst competent shinobi.” Rika explained next to Rin’s stupefied look, “To permanently embed chakra with a combination of character seals is just amazing…” The girl trailed off, practically buzzing with glee. “Minato-nii! You even inscribed seals for volatility! Never mind copying these, trying to deconstruct them will result in massive detonations! This is great!”

“I’m very glad you approve,” Minato said dryly. It seemed too late to hide his fuuinjutsu texts now. It was possible she had already read through all of them. “Ah, I’ll have to make more before we leave for Kusagakure.”

Rika nodded excitedly, and then paused. “Wait. You’re leaving again?” When Rin nodded, “When?”

“In three weeks.” Minato sent her a pointed look. _Is there something I should know?_

Remembering the presence of her brother’s team member, Rika shook her head and waved a flippant hand back and forth, whining, ”But you just got baaack.” Rin nodded along and patted the top of her head sympathetically.

“It’s a detrimental mission,” Minato disclosed under his breath. “It may end the war.”

Rika slumped. “Well… if you put it like that, what can I do?”

The sobering quiet that followed ensued for the rest of the hour. Rin’s pleasant chatter piped up again when another one of her teammates arrived – Kakashi – and Rika had to control her face as she registered the presence of the Hatake patriarch right next to him.

“Hatake-san.” Even Minato was taken by surprise. “It’s been a while.”

“It has. Welcome back,” Sakumo acknowledged, taking the time to greet his son’s team before his eyes glazed over to where Rika sat. The blonde suddenly found the shapes of grass _very_ interesting. “I wanted to thank you for taking care of Kakashi. For bringing him home,” Sakumo said earnestly. Minato nodded, not really prepared to say anything to that, so Sakumo diverted the subject, “Hopefully I didn’t make him late?”

“Not at all!” Kakashi and Rin shook her heads adamantly. Rin informed him, still wide-eyed in awe, “We set the meeting time for today earlier than it was supposed to be because—”

“I have arrived!”

Rika bit the inside of her cheek to suppress her laughter.

Obito came dawdling into the clearing in his spiky-haired, eye-goggled, vivid orange-and-blue garbed glory. “Sorry I’m a bit late! I had to help obaa-san and ojii-san get to their houses first! And the lady at the market had an errand for me, her cute, little cat was trapped on top of the tree—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kakashi huffed. “We’ve heard that before.” Rin giggled.

Obito scowled, “I’m not lying, you—!”

“Settle down, team,” Minato called out with a sigh. He was beginning to think they’d never grow out of their squabbles – two years with no one but each other and they _still_ managed to provoke each other. _Kami help me…_ “Rin, Kakashi – check your packs and make sure you have all the supplies we need today. We’re stationed at the perimeter. Obito,” the jounin glowered. “Late _again_. Twenty laps before we go. _No chakra._ ”

“Hai, sensei.” Rin and Kakashi chorused. Obito cursed.

Minato and Sakumo began to chat from where they stood as Rin and Kakashi dutifully laid out their supplies nearby. Obito dallied around and ended up meddling in Rika’s items when she began to pack up.

“Handouts… books… target boards…” Obito’s eyes widened. “You’re an academy student now!”

Kakashi awarded him a dry look. “No shit.”

“Sorry, Rika-chan. I know they’re a bit much,” Rin interjected in a mellow tone, but the mirth behind her gaze was there. “I gave up on trying to teach them manners. Boys are too stubborn.”

Rika shrugged, but then her eyes skewed as Obito reached for her notes. The Uchiha proceeded to skim through her journal, making small noises of _ooh_ s and _aah_ s, until he reached the section where her sketches were drawn and exclaimed, “Ara? This is unbelievably detailed!” He flipped through the next pages as he sat across from her. “Do you want to specialize in weapons in the future?”

Rika pinked. “Maybe…” She did take great pleasure in drawing them out, but that was primarily because of how sharp and shiny they were…

After five more minutes, he finished scanning through her thick notebook. Obito concluded as he snapped it closed, “Well, I think you’re trying too hard.”

Rika’s mouth fell open. Rin choked. Kakashi snorted.

“You’re still young, Rika-chan.” There was a grave undertone to how Obito said it. “You don’t need to obsess over your books and lectures yet. Pssh! Sleep in on weekends, enjoy yourself.”

Before Rin could hiss at him, Obito hurried to elaborate, “I just wish someone had told me before, you know? That once I was out there, my likes, my interests… Gone. It won’t matter to anyone out there. What makes you happy. Not even you. It’ll be about trapping wildlings, finding clean springs, rationing food packs, murder and violence and not much else. So don’t force yourself to learn quickly. Don’t make this the only world you know.”

Rika stared at him for a long while, pondering on his words before taking them with a grain of salt. She drew a deep breath.

“I’m not forcing myself, Obito-senpai. I _am_ pacing myself, but… I don’t want to _die_ out there.” Though Rika did enjoy her studies as a kunoichi, she couldn’t repress her shudder. “I’m not a prodigy like nii-san, and every lesson I can learn now is a chance for me to come through when people need me to in the future. So please, worry about yourself.”

Obito was unprepared for the candor of her response but considered them thoughtfully. “Well, I get what you mean…” He rubbed at his neck nervously. “That’s good then.”

Kakashi’s bored gaze rested on Rika. With a subtle sardonic tone, he drawled, “That’s admirable.”

Rika’s gaze fastened on the Hatake prodigy sharply. Her mouth bent into a minute grimace, and the intensity behind her eyes surprised him.

Like she knew something he didn’t.

He glared right back. “What?”

“Nothing.” Rika bit tersely, before she jutted her chin towards Obito. “Don’t you have laps to do?”

“Twenty laps, in fact,” Rin sung as she sealed mission necessities into four different scrolls – one for each of them. Kakashi quietly returned to arranging and sharpening their tools as needed. Obito groaned and headed off for his morning jog.

Soon enough, Rika watched Team Minato take off for their assigned sentry station for the day. Their figures blended into the distance, and the young Namikaze doesn’t kid herself for a moment to think she’d be allowed to leave just as easily.

“Sakumo-san.” She sighed, turning to where the war veteran waited against a tree. “What are you still doing here?”

“Just saying hello.”

Sakumo sent her a kind smile. _It fits him_ , Rika thought.

A huff, “We had an agreement.”

The elder Hatake hummed. “Yes, we did.”

Her eyes narrowed. “And?”

“And my reinstatement is pending,” Sakumo answered simply. He shrugged, “Again, just saying hello.”

“You have three weeks,” Rika told him. “Before they leave for Kusagakure.”

“I know.” A harsh breath. “I’ll be ready.”

Scanning the White Fang from head to toe, noting the improved condition of his physique and overall disposition, Rika allowed herself to relax. She pulled her attention back to his kind gaze and offered a little smile. “Good.”

* * *

_"Life… strength…” Sakumo analyzed her seal with interest. “…transfer …rebirth.” His eyes widened, “You—you’re…!”_

_“A reincarnation, yes.” Rika sighed, letting her shirt drop. “So you don’t have to tell me about how cruel the world can be. I already know what’s going to happen.”_

_“You know what’s—” Sakumo stopped himself, clearing his mind with a shake of his head. When she’d found him by the rivers, she’d known who he was, what he’d planned to do_.. _. “You’re not from this world. Who_ are _you?” he breathed._

_Rika frowned. “Does it matter? Earlier today you were decided on taking your own life. Never mind what happens to your son, or who else the village loses to the war. You gave up.” Sakumo flinched, but she furthered sternly, “You need to wake up. Kakashi needs his father. The village needs the White Fang. And I—…” Rika inhaled sharply, “I need help.”_

_Toneless, “Does the hokage know.”_

_Rika straightened. With a firm hold on his stare, she answered. “No.”_

_“But your brother knows.”_

_She gave one firm nod. “I trust him.”_

_Gray brows inched together. “But you don’t trust the sandaime?”_

_“Do_ you? _” Rika threw back evenly. “Tell me you still trust him. After throwing what little the village had into the mission that broke you then left you to rot, tell me you trust him.” Sakumo darkened. Rika went on, “Tell me I’m wrong and that you’d even trust the sandaime with the life of your son. Because if you really do then I’ll go right ahead and march into the tower right this second.” Rika’s lip curled sardonically, “I only know the future of the village, after all. What harm will it do to tell it to a truly righteous man?”_

_After a full minute of staring each other down, Sakumo’s clenched fists dropped to his sides._

_When the veteran finally spoke, he conceded, “You shouldn’t tell him.”_

_Rika drew her gaze away. She nodded._

_“Sarutobi isn’t a perfect leader but… he doesn’t see us as people.”_

_The sandaime had been perched on a pedestal his whole life. He had no interest to change the system that raised him—favored him. He’d seen the mess of war and blood and loss, then decided to cultivate it, thrive in it, just like the others before him. The cycle resumed with him on the seat and Sakumo knew he wasn’t the first – nor would he be the last – pointless loss._

_What the five shinobi nations needed was peace… Less sacrifice._

_An end to the carnage._

_“Kakashi, the sacrifices he’s made… It’s never enough… It’s not right…” Sakumo struggled with his words. “You can’t…”_

_The way fierce will beheld him, down through the blue gaze of innocence staring right back—Sakumo understood._

_A deathless, warless future was possible._

_“You can’t trust someone who won’t save your life,” Rika finished for him. “And I’m not doing this to be righteous. I’m doing this to save who matters.”_

_Sakumo murmured, “Everyone.” Even him. Even at his lowest._

_“Everyone.” Rika echoed with a nod. Her eyes vividly bright, “So tell me, Sakumo-san. Should_ I _trust_ you? _”_

* * *

Rika took Obito’s words of sage advice close to heart. That weekend, she spent less time slaving over tomes and weapons and caught up with the rest of her classmates instead. The frostiness of her peers stemming from the difference of their social classes thawed gradually as she proved herself serious-minded in class. Along with Izumi, she got to know Inuzuka Hana and her triplet pups, the comical Ino-Shika-Cho of her generation, and even Aburame Koharu, who never spoke except to introduce herself. Her peers were eccentric and still very childlike in their own ways, despite being four or five years older than her. To save herself from the migraine, Rika strayed far from where Yuka’s group hung out at the parks (even though the girl seemed to be more welcoming compared to their initial meeting). Uchihas and Hyuugas tended to flock into their own cliques so much that Rika still had most of their names and faces jumbled up in her head. (Although, Uchiha Daisuke and Hyuuga Irido had special thrones in her brain, just like Itachi, because as sparmates, their fists were especially dreadful.) While hanging out with Hana, she also met with Ebisu, a civilian-born student like her, set for a promotion once he managed to manifest and maintain his shadow clones for longer than fifteen minutes. He had the technique down, just not the chakra reserve.

Ebisu handed over a stick of dango and asked her out of curiosity, “Ne, ne, Namikaze-chan, what’s your dream?”

As Rika pulled off her first bite, “My dream?”

“Un. Like how Chouza’s dream is to own a grocery store, or how Hana wants to become a veterinarian for injured ninken.” Ebisu threw a pointed look over to where the Inuzuka was currently rolling over the lawn with her dogs. “Koharu doesn’t say much but one time she wrote that she wants to follow her cousins into research. Though first she’ll have to get a degree in entomology.”

“No way!” Rika grinned. “Would that make her a she-know-bee?”

Ebisu thumbed her down with a, “Booooo!”

Hana hollered at her, hands cupped around her mouth: “Come up with better material!”

She stuck her tongue out at them before nudging Ebisu with her foot as he laid on the grass. “Let me guess. You wanna become hokage?”

“Bah! Not at all! Can you imagine how tiring that would be? Everyday it’d be about missions and papers and boring politics stuff. Not to mention I’d have serial killer enemies and a council to answer to.”

Huh. That was new. “Well, what _do_ you wanna be?”

“I don’t know yet. Maybe a teacher?” Ebisu said. “Sometimes I think clan kids have it better because they have parents to tell them which direction they should go.” He shrugged. “Must be nice.”

At that moment, it clicked. Rika realized that Ebisu wasn’t just a civilian – he was a war orphan. No wonder he didn’t have a last name.

“But then again… I may not live long enough for dreams anyway.”

Hana’s head whipped up and glared at him. “Ebisu…”

“I think you’ll be fine.” Rika assured him. “You’ll be a teacher someday. If you really want to.”

Ebisu eye-smiled up at her. “Thanks. And you?”

“Maybe a housewife?” Rika suggested.

Ebisu choked on his last dango so bad that Rika had to thump on his back. Hana cackled from the side, “That’s _so_ civilian! Don’t tell me, Rika-chan, you think a daimyo’s son will strut into Konoha and whisk you off in a fancy, hand-drawn carriage too?”

“What can I say? I have a thing for big houses. A daimyo’s palace doesn’t sound so bad.” Rika giggled. “Sky’s the limit, ne?”

Obito was right. She didn’t _have_ to be so serious about life yet. _But,_ if she wasn’t careful, she might not even last long enough for it.

“Ha! Big _houses!_ ” Hana clutched her ribs as she howled. “Wait ‘til you reach your teens and it becomes big di—”

Ebisu threw his stick at the twelve-year-old. “Hana! Stop it! She’s still a kid!”

Rika forced an innocent smile onto her face as Hana continued to chortle.

Yes, yes. A kid who could effectively dismember two people in ten seconds, but a kid she was.

* * *

“Kakashi. This is our ancestral scroll.” Sakumo said, unrolling the large contract onto the floor of the Hatake courtyard. “Our clan has long since been guided by the pack that survives the wilderness of the Fire country. They lend us their skills, their senses, and if we were to ask it of them, their lives.”

Trailing his gaze over the pacts that were made before his time, Kakashi marveled at the handprints of his ancestors, blood-inked next to their accompanying paws. Jackals… Hounds… A rush of amazement went through him as he noted the wolfprint beside his father’s mark. It was the largest so far – roughly surpassing the size of Sakumo’s hand, nearly four times as big as his own.

Kakashi clenched and unclenched his left fist.

“Today, I want you to meet my familiar, and hopefully, he deems _you_ worthy enough to bestow you with your own.”

Kakashi swallowed nervously. He’d read through all of his summoning books twice. Just the right amount of blood, chakra, and the correct sealing technique, he'd be good to go.

Sakumo bit his thumb and painted a sigil into the soil with his blood before shouting: “ _Ninja Art: Summoning Technique!_ ”

Cold mist erupted from where his father’s hand met the ground. Kakashi’s jaw fell at the sight of ginormous limbs that emerged from the white shadows, padding unto the earth of their simple courtyard with a prowling firmness.

Towering over the young jounin, the snow-painted wolf revealed itself fully, its menacing snarl curdling the boy’s blood. Kakashi took some unwitting steps back from where he stood, and his mouth ran dry at the fiend voice that came from its jaws.

“Who _dares_ disturb me?” It thundered. “Surely not the White Fang that had abandoned _me._ ”

The jibe didn’t even faze his father. “Hello, Shirokami. How have you been.”

The wolf’s yellow eyes slanted as it looked over the Hatake patriarch. It took its time before scenting Sakumo with two deep breaths, then its tail started flicking back and forth.

“Hmm… It seems you have finally found yourself again. Welcome back to the bloodshed.”

“I apologize, Shiro.” Sakumo’s eyes shuttered. “Not having called on you for so long…”

“There is a time in our lives that we are lone wolves.” the wolf replied plainly. “But pack will always find its way home.”

Sakumo’s hand lifted towards his familiar. “Shiro…”

The beast turned its nose, as if snubbing his father. “Tch! I demand a gesture of appreciation for my unwavering service.”

Sakumo’s hand dropped, his expression wary. “Yes?”

“A walk.” When Sakumo woofed out with laughter, the wolf’s face contorted in irritation. “What is so hilarious? You will take me for a week-long trek where the elk are fit and ripe for slaughter.” There was a dangerous twinkle in the yellow of its eyes. “After which, you will take me to enemy lands where I will enjoy a few screaming men.” Its crimson tongue licked the top set of mauling incisors. “My appetite has only worsened in the absence of the White Fang…”

“Of course, of course… It would be my pleasure.” Sakumo bowed. “After all these years, Shiro, thank you for your trust.”

Very, very discreetly, the beast inclined its own head. “I serve no one but the White Fang.”

A glance in Kakashi’s direction before Sakumo gestured to him. “My son, Kakashi, has grown to deserve such service.”

“Has he.” Shirokami barely deemed him with a glance, before its gaze turned back to his father. “I remember his scent.”

Kakashi gulped.

“Yes. When Ka… when Kaede gave birth, I let you meet him.”

“Once. And then you lost yourself. Abandoned me. And I never saw him again.” The wolf scoffed. “How am I supposed to assess the will of fire that burns in him, if not to have witnessed his growth from when he was a pup?” Shirokami’s gaze snapped back to Kakashi, who didn’t dare move an inch. “You already _look_ like a trained dog. How deep has Sarutobi sunk his teeth into you?”

“Shiro!”

“Ah. Apologies.” the wolf huffed. “The master of my master is an ally. Sometimes I forget.”

Sakumo sighed. “Kakashi, come closer.” Bracing himself, Kakashi walked until he was beside his father, one jaw snap away from death. “Shiro will have questions for you, and it is essential you offer no lies.”

“You _may_ lie,” the wolf appeared to be sneering. “But I take no responsibility for my actions if you do.” The intimidation of its teeth only worsened while it spoke to Kakashi. “Do you _deserve_ our service, little heir?”

“I do.” Kakashi’s tone was resolute.

He swore the wolf smiled. “Then if ask of you to kill your father in exchange for my pack’s service… you will?”

Kakashi recoiled. “I…”

“The way of wolves has never been of honor.” Shirokami blinked lazily at him. “Violence for violence is the savage rule of beasts. Have you never been told this?”

“I would never kill my father!” Kakashi cried vehemently. His gray eyes looked to where his father stood, but Kakashi startled to find himself in a completely different world. An impossible terrain of humid earth and frosted snow, eerily silent in the shadowless canopy of trees. In the distance, the sound of spring water and desert. “Where…?”

“Never?” Yellow eyes darkened into molten rage. “You would never kill your father for us?” Shirokami clicked his tongue. “Sakumo killed his own father, because I asked.”

Kakashi’s eyes widened. “No! You liar!”

Fangs glistened with crystal venom. “I? A liar?” A loud howl of merriment. “For my power, the White Fang sunk his jaws into the blood of both ally and enemy alike. A glorious serviceship from _my_ kind can only be attained by this.”

Kakashi stepped backward. “Then… I don’t want the service of your kind.”

The wolf twisted its lip at him. “Interesting.” Jaws parted again. “Perhaps not your father then. Say… if I asked for the life of a friend instead.”

Kakashi’s hands shook. Rin and Obito’s faces flashed in his mind.

“Yes… Yes… They will do nicely.”

Kakashi exploded. “No! Never!”

The wolf heaved a sigh. “I tire of your cowardice.” It turned its nose to the sun, streams of daylight filtering through the leafed forest ceiling and onto its form. Muted speckles of woodland dust shined down on the great wolf. “Then give me an innocent life. Someone you do not know. Trace it and offer it to me.”

 _An innocent life…_ Kakashi’s face rumpled behind its mask. “You want me to sacrifice a stranger.”

“Offer me the life of any good man.” Shirokami clarified as he turned his body, as if to shrug. “They tend to pray in far mountains, live in seclusion, away from temptation and struggle—”

Kakashi buried his feet into the mudded floor. “No.”

Venom nearly spilled from the maws of the beast as Shirokami snarled and roared at him, “Then you offer my pack _nothing_! You do not deserve our service! Our feet, our teeth, our blood and souls! We would have killed our own kind for you! Our own children, if you asked!”

But Kakashi just glowered back at him. “I will never kill for you.” The Hatake heir said simply. “I am a blade not yours to command.” Kakashi took a heavy step forward. “My blade will protect family. My blade will fight alongside friends. My blade is the shield of a good man.” Kakashi shook his head and met the wolf’s gaze with a leer. “If your pack demands it – life and flesh and blood of a good man – then all I can offer is my own.”

Shirokami looked down at him.

“If I die in the carnage then your hounds can take my scraps and eat them.”

Shirokami didn’t even blink.

“If your pack offers their lives – their jaws, their bones, their children – it is not because I sacrificed others in exchange. They will do it because their lives are my own.” Kakashi took the brass dagger fastened on his hip and made a clean slice at the center of his left palm. “My mastership means family, integrity, and protection.” Kakashi smiled. “If you deny me, then… it is only because your kind do not deserve it.”

Shirokami’s tail flicked. Once. Twice.

“…Interesting.”

A howling laugh through the trees, followed by ear-piercing growls and heavy thumping across the earth. A pride was running away, leaving them in the acreage. Kakashi spun around, his eyes surveying the woodlands for the source of noise, only to find thinning vines and nothing.

“You will not spill the blood of the patriarch for power. Wolves do not suit you.” Shirokami rumbled. “You will not turn on your brethren for greatness. Jackals will not bow to you.” Shirokami’s fangs unveiled themselves again. “You refuse to hunt a good man for life-long honor. Hounds will not become you.”

Shirokami’s yellow glare affixed on Kakashi’s open, dripping palm. Burgundy lines continued to crawl down his arm, falling and watering the desert soil.

“You are not your father.” the wolf said. Kakashi agreed. “Or any man before him.”

Gray eyes widened as the White Wolf folded its limbs and curled into itself on the forest floor.

“You do not call to _my_ kind, but it appears you will have a league of your own.” Yaps and barks started to reach Kakashi’s senses in sparse intervals. “You do not expect service… but companionship. Loyalty. You are correct, little heir…” Shirokami’s eyes closed as if to dismiss him for the pull slumber. “…when you say we do not deserve you.”

A bark to his right, and suddenly, Kakashi was falling.

When he came to, he was in the clan courtyard again. Nighttime.

Slumped on the ground, he raised his head to see his left hand pasted onto the ancestral scroll, caked with blood. Sluggish, he pushed himself up and blinked.

Paws.

Little paws.

Many, many little paws inked all around his handprint.

A yap to his right. It sounded familiar. “Yo. About time you woke up.”

Kakashi’s vision cleared and settled. He turned to the direction of the drawl. Behind his mask, his lips parted in surprise.

“Name’s Pakkun. He’s Guruko-kun, _that’s_ Bull-kun, Shiba’s the one climbing up the tree, Bisuke is Bisuke… Akino-kun and Urushi-chan are the cutest – after me, of course – Uhei’s the one trying to destroy the tree… yada yada yada. The other pups got too tired of waiting and went inside the house to bother your papa since we haven’t had dinner. That’s fine, innit?”

Digesting the entirety of events in his head, the young Hatake heir didn’t have the presence of mind to memorize and distinguish between each dog as Pakkun introduced them.

Swallowing nervously, his throat rasped dry. “How many…”

Pakkun’s feet – so small it could fit two in a teacup – padded towards him. “Eh. Forty-eight? But Inka’s due to give birth soon, so maybe around fifty-ish.”

Kakashi felt lightheaded. “ _Fifty_?”

“Yes, boss.” The puppy pug eye-smiled. “At your command.”

* * *

 **N** **otes** :

Shirokami is a play on white-god (shiro-kami) and white-wolf (shiro-ookami). And did I really just make up a Hatake Clan summoning tradition that possibly explains why they’ve become extinct? All for shits and giggles? LMAO I could **not** get Sakumo and Shirokami out of my mind so I just HAD to draw them! Check them out on my tumblr [here](https://eserethriddle.tumblr.com/post/642523122358255616/quick-sketch-for-my-fic-precision-tactics-younger)!

Thank you for the heap of comments from the previous update! There were so much from both ffn and ao3 that it inspired me to write this as soon as I got home from the lab. Yes, that’s how much comments mean to authors! Thank you so much for every single one! Also, somebody reviewed and asked for a clarification of their ages (since the first 5 chapters were not chronological), so let me go ahead and lay it out, along with their present ranks. Here we go!

Namikaze Rika was born when Minato was sixteen years old. Minato was seventeen when their mother died, and nineteen when Sato Inoue was transferred into his two year-old sister’s body. At twenty years old, Minato starts teaching her about handseals. **Currently, Namikaze Minato is an S-Rank Jounin at twenty-three years old.**

Rika is three years old when she starts reorienting herself into the new world she finds herself in. This is the age that Minato concedes and teaches her the basics of jutsu. As a thirty year-old stuck in a child’s body, Minato seals essential points of her chakra pathway because her physical, mental, and spiritual senses were still recovering from the reincarnation that led to the instability of her stomach seal. Rika is four when she starts her kata regimen, five when she starts reading about traps, bombs, chakra-activated seals, and meets Sakumo. **At this point in the story, Namikaze Rika is in the academy at six years old.**

Uchiha Itachi was four years old when he was shown the aftermath of war by his father firsthand. This experience turns him into a pacifist. As a natural prodigy, he’s five when he furthers his clan training and meets Shisui. **At this point in the story, Uchiha Itachi is the same age as Rika at six years old.** According to canon, Itachi will graduate from the academy at this age, merely four months after entering the academy. We’ll see how that goes.

 **Hatake Kakashi is relatively young at approximately 9 years of age at this point in the story.** I will not elaborate on the years prior because Kakashi’s timeline is a piping hot mess and I value my sanity. In fact, canon dictates that he graduated from academy at 6/7, has already achieved **Jounin Rank** , and acts as the Team Leader for Team Minato. To compensate this in PT, **Nohara Rin and Uchiha Obito are war-accelerated chuunin at 9 years old.** As children in the battlefield, their age gives them some kind of advantage as enemies take them at face value.

Like the Yellow Flash, **Uzumaki Kushina is also a twenty-three year-old Jounin.** According to canon, she and Minato deal with the Kyuubi at twenty-four and lose their lives then. Again, we’ll see how that goes.

I also want to clarify that in Canon Naruto’s timeline, children enter the academy at around 8-10 years old. Given that Rika’s timeline is an active time of war, the academy is forced to make exemptions to, well, produce more foot soldiers and increase their chances of victory, logistically speaking. Not to mention there are deaths in the time of war, and for a village that is dictated by shinobi power, the councilfolks are at a race to replenish their manpower as soon as possible. This is essentially why the presence of Rika and Itachi in the advanced class is off-putting to their classmates, clan-born or otherwise, as they had been there for considerably more years than them.

Finally, **Hatake Sakumo is a forty year-old S-Rank Jounin placed on indefinite leave by the Third Hokage himself.** The man is currently doing his best to reattain his optimum physique and recover from the four-year trauma of having failed the mission that could have avoided the entire war. Guys I love his character so much you don’t understand—

Ehem. On a side note, I was going over my plotline notebook and started considering how far and in-depth I wanted PT to go. I kinda wanna save Konan and Pain and Nagato too but I guess we’ll have to see until we reach that point. I still have a couple of arcs to plotfix (Kyuubi Arc, Training Arc, Uchiha Massacre Arc, etc) before that even happens hehe. The chaos I have planned for the Kannabi Bridge Event is honestly just… wild. I can’t wait to write it. I can safely warn you that this story isn’t pure fluff, as I do take great pleasure in manipulating politics, the timeline, and various character growth in terms of friendship, combat skill, and lime romance to yield a fix-it fic that caters to my own needs. After all, I wrote this fic for myself, so. Just chill in the backseat and let me take you for a ride LMAO. Rest assured, I do have a satisfactorily happy ending planned for our dear little Rika and her boys. Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider joining my discord server for fandom content and friendship!! We are a server composed of fan writers, readers, and artists unhinged enough to offer memes and companionship and iconic trash content for the love of media! Also, sneak peak content for our works! See you there! discord.gg/qKjcTRb


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